Essay on the Application of Abstract Reasoning to the Christian Doctrines: Originally Published ...

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[ IaIBRARY ]

: iPresented by HON. D. BETHUNE DUFFIELD. \
From Library of Rev. Geo. Duffield, D.D. ^

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ESSAY

^N TBE

f

APPLICATION OF ABSTRACT REASONING

TO THE

CHRISTIAN DOCTRINES:

ORIGINALLY PUBLISHED

AS AN

INTRODUCTION TO ED\VaRDS ON THE WILL.

BY THE AUTHOR OF
' NATURAL HISTORY OF ENTHUSIASM.'

« «

• • * •

First A^OncSin Edition.

• «

BOSTON:

PUBLISHED BY CROCKER AND BREWSTER,

47; Washington Street:

NEW-YORKi-JONATHAN LEAVITT,

182, Broadway.

1832.

Entered, according to the Act of CoogresS; in the year one thousand
eight hundred and thirty-two, by Crocker &, Brbw^tkr, in the Clerk's
Office of the District Court of Massachusetts.

ADVERTISEMENT

TO THIS EDITION.

Few men, by means of a single small vol-
ume, have added so much to the intellectual
wealth of the world as the author of the *Nat-
ural History of Enthusiasm.' Almost the
whole book is a clear enlargement of the field
of thought and investigation. The subject is
new, and the manner of treating it is new.
Giving such a work to the world is like adding
to an empire a before undiscovered territory.

In the following Essay this author has fully
sustained the character which he acquired by
'^ the work named above^ of being a liberal con-
^ tributor to the coijinrnq-stock of thought,
u The subject is surely onfe of great practical
moment, bearing directly on the method of
explaining and discussing the Christian doc-
trines; and, of course, on the labors of the
preacher and the student of theolop:y. It is
quite safe to say that half of all the theological
disputation which has prevailed since the

Christian era, agitating the minds of men and
distracting the Church, has had its origin in
attempts to make revealed truth harmonize
with systems of intellectual philosophy. It
may fairly be doubted whether, on the whole,
these attempts have at all advanced the cause
of genuine orthodoxy and godliness. It is
almost certain, that, if the same power of
thought, and the same learning had been
applied with equal zeal to a simple, apostol-
ical exhibition of the great truths and motives
of revelation, and to the inculcation of the
spirit of the gospel, the result would have
been far more auspicious to the cause of truth
and human salvation.

The serious and candid manner in which
the inquiry respecting the relation that the
abstract doctrine of liberty and necessity bears
to revealed truth is here pursued, and the
purely evangeli(?al;a*3 j catholic spirit which
pervades this as WfelPas the other principal
work of this author, are most exemplary. The
reader can hardly fail to peruse these pages
confiding in the writej: as an honest and safe
guide; and of finding, at the close, his own
views of the subject corrected and enlarged.

Boston J Jan. 1832.

'I

ESSAY.

SeCTION I.

Jf it be the prerogative of philosophical writings to
command a more grave attention, and to challenge a
higher rank in literature than is accorded to, works of
iniagination, it is s^lso their fate more often to fall into
oblivion; or even if remembered and preserved, to be
superseded, and to forfeit the honors they once and
long enjoyed as canons of science. The reason of this
difference is obvious; for in the one class of composi-
tions, an end is proposed which may be attained in a
thousand ways, and in the pursuit of which genius
ensures its own success. But in the other class, where
the discovery of truth is the single object, success de-
pends not merely upon zeal and ability, but upon the
good fortune also which may lead the inquirer upon
the one only track amid innumerable devious paths.

2

14

The mass of ancient literature that has reached mod-
era times, consists in great part of those products of
mind, the immortality of which has not at all resulted
from their value as vehicles of truth: yet are they still
perused with delight — are handed down as inestimable
treasures from age to age — pass in the course of civilis-
ation from clime to clime — and (go where they may)
awaken always, in every cultured mind, the liveliest
emotions of pleasure. Along with the poetry, the ora-
tory, and the histories of a bright and distant time, we
have received also, in no small quantity, the philosophy
of the same era. Yet is it a fact, that of this prodigious
assemblage, a single small treatise ^ alone retains its
place and office as a source of knowledge, or is actually
extant as an efficient instrument of instruction. Never-
theless, it is far from being true that Pindar, Hesiod,
and Homer, or that Anacreon, Sophocles and Aristo-
phanes, were men of a higher order of intellect than
those philosophers, their contemporaries, not a sentence
of whose writings has been conserved; or than Plato
and Aristotle, whose works, though handed down to
us, exist in our libraries much rather as literature than
as philosophy.

The arrogant chiefs of the Grecian philosophical
sects looked probably with scorn upon the versifiers,
and dramatists, and orators'of their day, and deemed
them ti iflers. And yet is it these who still command the
admiration of mankind; while those^ for the most part,
do but hover in the recollections of the learned, as

" Euclid's £lemenu.

1&

phantoms of an obsolete intellectual domination. But
the one strove for a prize which is always attainable by
genius;— the other reared their fame on the proud pre-
tension that they were teachers of truth: their claim
was disputed and disproved; and their ambition has
long ago been trampled in the dust.

Works of science lose their credit as such, either in
consequence of the refutation and entire rejection of the
principles they maintam; or they are gradually super-
seded, in the natural course of improvement, by better
digested systems, founded on the same general doc-
trines. In instances of this latter sort, the discoverers
of certain great truths which have become the property
of the intellectual commonwealth, though they still hold
their titles of honor, retain litde real influence, and are
more often spoken of than read; or are read only by
the few who make the history of science their peculiar
study.

As examples of the former class, we might mention
fhe pseudo-scientific doctrines of Plato — those splendid
etro^s which extingubhed the then existing light of true
philosophy; and the greater portion of the physical dis-
quisitions of Aristotle; and the astronomy of Ptolemy;
and then, in long array, and immeasurable bulk, the
alchymy, and the astrology, and the physics, and the
metaphysics, of the sixteen centuries, during which the
human mind dreamed ingeniously, rather than employed
itself waking upon the adairs of the real world.

Instances of the second sort (beside the single one
above mentioned) are hardly to be produced from the
extant remains of ancient literattire; unless indeed we

■ 4

16

were to consider as works of science the writings of the
Grecian and Roman geographers, which though superset
ded by the more exact information of modern times, still
exist, not simply as classical remains, but as sources of
knowledge.* Passing them, the writings of the fathers
of the modern astronomy may be named as examples
completely in point; for these (the modem astronomy
being assumed as in truth the system of nature) have
possessed themselves of an immortality which must be
coeval with the existence of science. Nevertheless, it
has happened, and indeed it is a distinction belonging
to genuine discoveries in science, that the writings which
opened the path of truth have ceased to be read, except
by the curious, even while still regarded as the spring-
heads of real knowledge. It was the glory of Coperni-
cus, of Tycho, of Kepler, and of Galileo, to say to their
successors, "Leave us, and go (Mi."f

Yet is it true of the few works that take rank in the
highest doss of philosophical literature, that, though
they may have become obsolete, either because essen-
tially erroneous, or because superseded, they still chal-
lenge attention and respect as products of mind; and
though no longer valuable as guides in the pursuit of
knowledge, are precious as works of genius, and as ex-
hibitions of an athletic force of intellect. It is in this

* We sbould perhaps saj t&pographerM: topograpbj^ being more remol*
from the fields of speculatioD than any other branch of leamiog, wbs lesi
vitiated than any other branch among the ancients) and their writings of
this class retain their value to the present day.

t b the ''Prinoipta'' now taking its place in this elasf ef lupenedid
pbiloaophyt Though thia were the facl;, Newton would loae aone of Ua
iame.

17

sense that the tmtnatched writings of Aristotle must be
immortal; and thus that the best of his expounders may
continue to be read: and it is on this ground also that
Hobbes, and Des Cartes, and Malebranche, and
Berkeley, and Hume, and Hutcheson, and Hartley, re-
tain, and will, perhaps, long retain, their place in the
literature of Europe, knd be perused by a future and
more enlightened generation, to whom the absurdities
and whimsical sophisms with which they abound, shall
seem even more frivolous than they do to ourselves.

Whatever may in the next age be the fate of the
"Inquiry concerning Freedom of Will," (in the present
age it holds all its honors and authority), it may safely
be predicted that, at least as an instance of exact analy-
sis, of profound or perfect abstraction, of conclusive
logic, and of calm discussion, this celebrated essay will
long support its reputation, and will continue to be used
as a classi6 material in the business of intellectual edu-
cation. If literary ambition had been, which certainly
it was not, the active element of the author's mind (as
it was the single motive in the mind of his contemporary
and admirer Hume), and if he could have foreseen the
reputation of his "Essay on Free Will," he need have
envied very few aspirants to philosophic fame. What
higher praise could a scientific writer wish for, than that
of having, by a small and single dissertation, reduced a
numerous, a learned, and a powerful party, in his own *
and odier countries (and from bis own day to the pres-

* We claim Edwards af aii Engfiskmant he was such in every respeet
tnrt the accident of birth in a distant province of the empire.

*2

18

eat time) to the sad necessity of making a blank protest
against the argument and bference of the book, and of
saying, "The reasoning of Edwards must be a sophism;
for it overthrows our doctrine." And then, if we torn
from theology to science — ^from divines to philosophers,
we see the modest pastor of the Calvinists of Northamp-
ton assigned to a seat of honor among sages, and allow-
ed (if he will lay aside his faith and his Bible) to speak
and to utter decisions as a master of science.

It might indeed have been well if the devout Rd-
wards * could have foreseen the consequences that have
actually resulted from the mode in which he conducted
his argument; for in that case, assuredly he would not
have allowed to sceptics the opportunity of triumphing
by his means over faith as well as reason. He would,
then, instead of abandoning the ground of abstract rea-
soning as soon as he had achieved the overthrow of the
metaphysical error of bis opponents, have carried it
(and he was able to do so) to its utmost extent j and
have so established the responsibility of man, as should
have compelled infidels either not to avail themselves at
all of his proof of universal causation, or to yield to his
proof of the reality of religion.

The diffidence and the Christian humility, or the re-
tired habits of the American divine, prevented, perhaps,
his entertaining the thought that he might be listened to
by philosophers, as well as by his brethren, the minis-
ters of religion. Supposing himself to write only for
those who acknowledged, as cordially as he did, the

* See note A at the end of ihe Essay.

J9

authority of Scripture, he scrupled not to make out his
cham of reasoning, indifferently, of abstractions and of
texts; and especially in the latter portion of his treatise,
readily took the short Scriptural road to a conclusion,
\vhich must have been circuitously reached in any other
way. Just and peremptory as these conclusions may
be, they commanded no respect out of the pale of the
church; nay, they rather excited the scorn of those
who naturally said — ^If these principles could have been
established by abstract argument, a thinker so profound
as Edwards, and so fond of metaphysics, would not
have proved them by the Bible.

Sceptics of all classes (it has ever been the practice
and policy of the powers of evil to build with plundered
materials), availing themselves greedily of the abstract
portions of the inquiry, and contemning its Biblical con-
nectives and conclusions, carried on the unfinished rea-
soning in their own manner; and when they had com-
pleted their, edifice of gloom and fear, turned impu-
dently to the faithful, and said— "Nay, quarrel not with
our labors; the foundations were laid by one of your-
selves!"

Notwithstanding this unhappy and accidental result
of the argument for moral causation, as conducted by
Edwards, this celebrated treatise must be allowed to
have achieved an impoitant service for Christianity, in-
asmuch as it has stood like a bulwark in front of princi-
ples which, whether or not they may hitherto have been
stated in the happiest manner, are of such consequence,
that if they were once, and universally abandoned by
the church, the church itself would not long make good

20

its opposition to infidelity. Let it be granted that Cal-
vinism has often existed in a state of mixture with crude,
or presumptuous, or preposterous dogmas. Yet surely,
whoever is competent to take a calm, an independent,
and a truly philosophic survey of the Christian system,
and can calculate also the balancings of opinion — the
antitheses of belief, will grant, that if Calvinism, in the
modern sense of the term,* were quite exploded, a
long time could not elapse before evangelical Armini-
anism would find itself driven helplessly into the gulf
that had yawned to receive its rival; and to this catas-
trophe must quickly succeed the triumph of the dead
rationalism of Neology; and then that of Atheism.

Whatever notions of an exaggerated sort may belong
lo some CalvinisiSy Calvinism, cu distinguished Jram
Arminianismy encircles or mvolves Great Truths,
which, whether dimly or clearly discerned — whether
defended in Scriptural simplicity of language,, or de-
formed by grievous perversions, will never be abandoned
while the Bible continues to be devoutly read; and
which, if they might indeed be subverted, would drag
to the same ruin every doctrine of revealed religion.
Zealous, dogmatical, and sincere Armmians little think
how much they owe to the writer who, more than any
other in modern times, has withstood their inconsiderate
Endeavors to impugn certain prominent articles of the
Reformation. Nay, they think not that, to the exist-

* It is liardly necetsaiy to say, that the term CalYinsB is oted witkoat
my referenee to the parttcoiar opiaioM of tlw ill mu iu as diviae vho km
givea his aame to a systan of doctriae aiach oMer thaa the afa of iht

•A

21

ence of Calvinism they owe their own, as Christians.
Yet ad much as this might be affirmed, and made good;
even though he who should undertake the task were so
to conduct his argument as might make six Calvinists
in ten his enemies.

Yet it will not be affirmed (unless by the advocates
of a party) that the treatise on the Will is in itself com-
plete; or that it is open to no reasonable objection on
the part of those who refuse to admit its conclusions;
or that it leaves nothing to be desired in this department
of theological science. Very far, we think, is this from
being the fact. Edwards achieved, indeed, his imme-
diate object — ^that of exposing to contempt, in all its
evasions, the Arrainian notion of contingency, as the
blind law of human volitions: and he did' more; — he
effectively redeemed the doctrines called Calvinistic
from that iscorn with which the irreligious party, withb
and without the pale of Christianity, would fain have
overwhelmed them: — ^he taught the world to be less
jQippantj and there is reason ako to surmise (though the
facts are not to be distinctly adduced) that, in the re-
action which of late has counterpoised the once tn-
umphant Arminianism of English epispocal divinity, ibe
inlluenee of Edwards has been much greater than those
*who have yielded to it have always confessed.

But if the inquiry on Freedom of Will Js regarded,
and it ought to be so regarded, as a scientific treatise,
tfien we inust vehemently protest against that mixture
(already alluded to) of metaphysical demonstrations
and Scriptural evidence, whi&b runs through it, break-
ing up the chab of argumentations-disparaging the

22

authority of the Bible, by making it part and parcel
with disputable abstractions; and worse, destroying both
the lustre and the edge of the sword of the Spirit, by
using it as a mere weapon of metaphysical warfare.
Yet, in justice to Edwards it must be remembered, that
while pursuing this course, he did but follow in the track
of all who had gone before him. To this ancient evil
we must again advert.

But, besides the improper mixture of abstract reason-
ing with documentary proof, the attentive reader of Ed-
wards will detect a confusion of another sort, less palpa-
ble indeed, but of not less fatal coi^sequence to the con-
sistency of a philosophical argument; and which, though
sanctioned by the highest authorities, in all times, and
recommended by the example of the most eminent wri-
ters, even to the present monoent, must, so long as it is
adhered to, hold intellectual philosophy far m the rear
of the physical and mathematical sciences. For the
present it is enough just to point out the error of method
alluded to, remitting the further consideration of it to a
subsequent page.

It 16 that of mingling purely abstract propositions- —
propositions strictly metaphysical^''^ with facts belonging
to the physiology of the human mind. Even the reader
who is scarcely at all familiar with abstruse science,
willy if he follow our author attentively, be perpetually
cooscious of a vague dissatbfaction, or latent suspicion,
that some fallacy has passed into the train of proposi-

* The reader is referred also to a lubteqaent page of this Essay for a
deftnitlon of the sense in which the writer tm\\ey% the term metopftyrie»,
U distiogttished from the physiologj of the nuiid.

S3

tionsy although the linkmg of syllogisms seems perfect
This suspicion will increase in strength as he proceeds,
and will at length condense itself into i^e form of a
protest against certain conclusions, notwithstanding
their apparently necessary connection with the preroise^i; '

The condition of those purely abstract truths which
constitute the higher metaphysics is, that they might
(though no good purpose could be answered by doing
so) be expressed by algebraic or other arbitrary signs;
and in that form made to pass through the process of
syllogistic reasoning; certain conclusions being attained
which must be assented to, independently of any refer-
ence to the actual constitution of human nature—or to
that of other sentient beings. These abstractions stand
parallel with the truths of pure mathematics. — ^And it
may be said of both, that the human mind masters them,
comprehends and perceives their properties and rela-
tions, and feels that the materials of its cogitation lie all
within its grasp, are exposed to its inspection, and need
not be gathered from obpervation. To such abstractions
the artificial methods of logic are applicablcr

Not so to our reasonings when th6 actual conforma-
tion of either he material world, or of the animal $y&-
tem, or of the mental, is the subject of inquiry. Logic
may place in their true relative position things already
known; but it aids us not at all (the logic of syllogism) in
the discovery of things unknown. Hence it follows,
that if an inquiry, the ultimate facts of which relate to
the agency and moral condition of man, be conducted
in the method that is proper to pure abstractions, and
if, as often as the argument demands it, new materials
are brought in, untxamined^ from the actual conforma-

. tkm of die bunian mind, very much maj be taken for
granted, aod wiD flow in die stream of logical demon-
stration, which in itself is at least questionable, and
whicb, whedier true or false, should be stated as simple
matter of fact, and by no means confounded widi those
UDchangeable truths which would be what they are,
though no such being as man existed. This error of
method — an inveterate one — is as if a mathematician in
calculating (for example) die necessary dimensions of a
timber which, being supported at its two estremides,
was 10 sustain a given weight, were, in carrying on the
titathematieal part of bis reasonbg, to assume the speci-
fic properties of timber as an invariable abstraction; or
were either to leave out of the process all consideration
of the density, compressibility, and tenacity of oak, ash,
fir, elm, Sic., or were to take certain facts of thb sort
upon vu^ar report, and blend them with his calcula-
tions, without having experimentally informed himself
of the physical coiulitution of the materials in question.
In the scientific procedures of the mechanic arts, the
ultimate result, whether it be a building, a bridge, or a
machine, usually combines three perfectly distinct and
independent series of truths, or classes of causation;
namely, 1st, the mathematical relations of extension or
number; 2d, the mechanical laws of gravitation, motion,
friction, Uc.j Sd, the qualities and properties (in part
mechanical, in part chemical) of the several materials
that are to be employed or wrought upon.

Now these distinct principles or truths must be sepa-
rately considered; and each in the method proper to
iiielf; and must then be combined in the single result.
It ii thus alcme that the arch can bej made to sustain

25

itself and its intended burden; — ^that the roof will rest
on its plate; — ^that the engine will perform its compli-
cated part; or the simplest implement execute its des-
tined drudgery.*

But owing, in part, to the abstruse nature of the sub-
ject, and to its not being susceptible of palpable proof;
and, in part, to the unhappy accidents which in every
age have beset intellectual philosophy, problems belong-
ing to the science of mind have commonly been at-
tempted to be solved, on the principle of confounding
the abstract with the physical. And then if, in addition
to this capital error, there have been mingled with, the
process the jargon of religious factions, and with that,
the antagonist dognigis of the enemies of all religion, the
smallest probability of attaining a satisfactory result has
been removed; and the aotdal issue of the controversy,
instead of going calmly to its place, like the conclusions
of physical science, has served only to exacerbate new
contentions, either among theologians, or between them
and the assailants of Christianjty.

In the case, therefore, of our ^vailing ourselves of the
reasoning of a writer, like President Edwards, it behoves
us to take heied that we do justice, at oncei, to him and
to ourselves. To him, by not imputing to himi indi^
vidually, a blame which belongs in common to all meta-
physico-theological writers, of every $ige-^not one per-
haps excepted. And to ourselves, by assenting to hig
argument only so far as it is purely of an abstract kind;
while we hold purselves aloof from every conclusion

* See nbte B- '

20

wfaicb involves physiological facts of a kind either not
considered by the author, or not known to him.

SECTION 11,

SaccESS in the prosecution of a scientific inquiry
demands that, if the desired result, or the ultimate fact,
be of a simple kind, we should, 1st, Seek for it among
the class of truths to which it actually belongs; * and
2d, That, in conducting the process, we exclude the
facts and avoid the methods proper to other branches
of knowledge. Or if ^e ultimate fact be complex,
involving truths of different classes, it is necessary that
we pursue each class separately, and in its proper man-
ner, and at ]ast^ truly combine the several prpducts.

Of what sort, then, we may ask, is the inquiry con-
cerning human agency, free will, liberty, and necessity?
In other words: to what department of science does the
controversy belong, and on what ground is it to be
argued? Now, in order that every probable supposition
may be included, and that we may disengage ourselves
from such as are groundless, let it be affirmed, succes-
sively, of this question, that it is one

L Of common life, affecting the personal, social, and
political conduct of mankind;

JI. Of theology and Christian doctrine;

JIJ. Of the physiology of man;

IV. Of the higher metaphysics.

* See note C.

27

It b proposed to consider, as briefly as possible, the
question of moral causation and necessity separately
under these heads. And first, suppose it to be affirmed
that the controversy may, in its result, affect the con-
duct of common life, or ought to influence the feelings
or behavior of men in their ordinary transactions, pri-
vate and public.

Unless for the sake of an important inference (soon
to be mentioned), it might well be deemed in the last
degree trivial and impertinent, even to assume as at all
reasonable the supposition, that the substantial interests
of life are liable to interruption or interference from
abstruse dogmas of any kind, and especially of such as
are advanced in the controversy concerning liberty and
necessity. There has, indeed, been a season among
our near neighbors, during which an interference of this
sort was allowed; * and it may also hav« found indul-
gence within the circle of German philosophy; and it has
always had a place among the mystios of Asia.f But
in England, the force of common sense is far too great,
and the credit of metaphysics is, happily, far too small,
for any room to be granted to extravagances of this
order. Or, were it otherwise, the supposition of a
practical consequence belonging to the question would
stand discharged by the leave of even the most resolute
impugners of the common sense and con^mon feelings
of mankind, who, not only by their personal conduct,
but by explicit ddmia,sions, excuse their fellow*men
from paying any more respect to their sublime demon-
strations, than is ordinarily thought due to the mexpli-

* See note D. f See note £,

cable whims of men who abound in learning and
leisure,*

Yet let us for a moment contend, as if in serious con-
troversy with the supposition, ihal such doctrines as the
Pyrrhonic or the Stoic; or the modern doctrine of
necessity; or if there be yet in the womb of chaos any
other dogma of similar quahty, that these higli principles
have a claim to be listened to before men can, with
reason or consisteocy, proceed to transact the business
of life, or with propriety give indulgence to certain vul-
gar emotions.

Now, we should overturn a preposterous pretension
of thLi sort in more ways than one; as, first, we should,
. by a loose technical argument, procure a relegation of
any such controversy from the haunts of real life in this
manner. Let h be supposed, that, in due course of
law, and after hearing and sifting of evidence, a prisoner
at the bar has received sentence of death; but his legal
advocate pleads an arrest of judgment, on the ground,
we will say, of an error in the arraignment. The court
assents to the propriety of this sort of interruption — ad-
mits the objection to be .formal and pertinent — examines
with care the allegation, and 'finding it valid, allows to
the convicted man the benefit of the demurrer. But
let it he imagined that the prisoner's legal defender,

' "W(icn llie Pjrrlioniaii awafcos rrom bis dream, he will be lhr> firsl lo
join in UiP IburU agaliitl iiimtvir, mi'l In cntifoss ihai all his nlijf iiioiis are
, mere BmiiBemoiii, auil can hdVB no' oilier lenrlt'iirj' thnn lo shew the

bough ibey are nnt able, hy ib.-ir iniMt dlligeiii inquiry, lo rtaiiKfy ihem;
aW csroncemiiig Ibe fonnclBlioii of lh<>sB opcraiioin, ono remove Ihe
bjeclionl ihal may lie raiteit nK»"i*"liem."— Hume's Inquiry concern-
ag At Hainan Unacriliiialing, sect. nil. pan S.

v-T

S9

destitute of any such fit objection^ wherewith to protecf
the life of his client, stands up to impugn the good
policy, or the abstract justice, or the morality of the
statute under which he has been condemned; or he
affirms that this enactment is contrary to the spirit of
the constitution, and is in itself an outrage upon unalien-
able rights. In an argument of this sort, he might
happen to have all reason and good principles on his
side; and might, if permitted to speak, actually bring
^udge, jury, and the crowd around, to think with him-
self. But the court peremptorily excludes any such
impertinencej though valid in itself, as utterly improper
to the place and occasion; nor for a moment to be
listened to, where lawjs are to be put in , force-^not
repealed or amended.

And yet this very same argument, overruled and re-
jected in a court of justice, may be carried into the
senate, and shall there be respectfully entertained.
Senators will hear and weigh reasons which judges
repudiate. The ground of this practical procedure is
manifest;— ^very one to his business. . Tn the senate,
motives of policy, and legal consistences, and special
necessities of state, together with arguments of abstract
or universal justice; and even, to some extent, religious
considerations, are brought together from all sides, and
go to influence the legislative decision. Nevertheless^
limits are imposed upon the indulgence given to senato-
rial argumentation. Were it, for instance, to happen
that a legislative body included a mere theorbt, or dab-
bler in philosophy; and were such a one, instead of
alleging some of the topics just mentioned, to advance,

*8

V

90

if a motiye for repenliiig a peoal statute certab doc-
trines of pbreoological science, and were to say, that
inasmuch as the murderer and the thief are the pitiable
victims of an unhappy cerebal malformation, and in de-
priving their fellows of life or chattels do but yield to an
organic necessity, springing from a certain too-much-
bloated inch of brain — ^therefore, to pursue crime by pun-
ishment is only to add cruelty to misfortune; — we say, in
such a case, the improper argument would be overruled.
Or, instead of the phrenologist, let it be supposed that
a stanch and consistent disciple of the modern '^Philos-
ophy of the Human Mind" announces to his peers the
DOW demonstrated fact, *^That virtue and vice are mere
relatbns — absolute nonentities, except just so far as they
are thought of and perceived by other minds; and not
more real or positive than the most recondite properties
of a triangle." ^ Let him thence argue that, to inflict
the pains of death upon an unfortunate being, who (in
consequence of a volition in itself purely contingent) has
given rise to the existence of some such relative notion
in the minds of other men, would be an inhumanity,
equally barbarous and unscientific.

Qtj to come nearer to our subject, we may imagine
some such speculative senator to oppose a penal en^ct*
ment, on the ground of philosophical fatalism, averring
that, as "all things are as they must be," human respon-
sibility is a fable, virtue and vice emply names, govern*
ment and law the trickery of kings, as religion is of

* Brown's Lectures, 73 and 74, especially pp. 695 and 5%, vol. iii.
Brown must not, however, be confounded wilh the enemies of reli/sjion
and virtne. But his preposterous theory of morals affords strilciiig illat-
tration of the assertion, That iutellectual phiiosopliy is yet in it« infancy.

_ J

81

priests. But, in any such supposed instance of learned
quackery or philosophical impertinence, not a moment'*
indulgence would be granted, in a senate, to the man of
theory: all ears would he stopped, or his voice drowned
in outcries of contempt. Nor would this impatience
spring so much from the belief diat the argument was
sophistical, and the theory baseless, as from the feeling
that, whether true or false, questions of this order belong
not to senators^ but to philosophers. Every man to his
business; and whenever men have long occupied a posi*
tion where, extensive experience has authenticated cer--
tain mcrdes «of procedure, and where great,. many, and
substantial benefits have been obtained, they are not to
be thence removed, or to be driven from their ancient
inheritance of known advantages,, by the mere demon* .
strations bf- pretended science. If an abstruse dogma
be indeed well, founded,, it will in time vanquish to itself
the convictions of mankind, and will then properly come
in to regulate the conduct of life, when all men^ have
confessed its right to do so.

But there is a bar to the interference of abstruse
dogmas with common interests, more- deterihinate thati
the preceding. Let fatalism in itsf most perfect form *

* "Regacdez-y de prds, ct vous Tcrrez que le mQt Jiherte est un mot
vide de sensj qu'il n*y a point, et qu'il ue peut y avoir d'eires fibres. , .
. . . Le mplif nops est toujours exi^rieur, etraiiger attairhe ou par une
nature, ou par une cause qu<;lconque, qui n'est pas nous. . . . JVf ais s'il n'y
a point de liberie, il n'y a poii^t d^action qui merite )a louaiige ou le blame;

il n^y a ni vice,7n rertu, rien dont il fa'rtle recompenserdu cliatier l\

n*y a c\u'tme sorte de causes a proprement parlerj ce soiit let causes phy'
siques. II n'j'-a qu'une sorte de uccessiie, c'est la menfie pour tons les etres.'^
— Diderot, ols quoted in (lie First Dissertation prejixed to the.Ency, Brit,
7lh edit.— If indeed there be neither vice nor virtue^ and nothing which

24

don of the human mind, yeiy much may be taken for
granted, and will flow in the stream of logical demon-
stration, which in itself is at least questionable, and
which, whether true or false, should be stated as simple
matter of fact, and by no means confounded with those
unchangeable truths which would be what they are,
though no such bebg as man existed. This error of
method-*-an inveterate one — is as if a mathematician in
calculating (for example) the necessary dimensions of a
timber which, being supported at its two extremities,
was to sustain a given weight, were, in carrying on the
mathenuUical part of his reasoning, to assume the speci-
fic properties of timber as an invariable abstraction; or
were either to leave out of the process all consideration
of the density, compressibility, and tenacity of oak, ash,
fir, elm, Sec., or were to take certab facts of this sort
upon vulgar report, and blend them with his calcula-
tions, without havbg experimentally informed himself
of the physical constitution of the materials in question.

In the scientific procedures of the mechanic arts, thfe
ultimate result, whether it bis a building, a bridge, or a
machine, usually combbes ^Aree perfectly distinct and
bdependent series of truths, or classes of causation;
namely, 1st, the mathematical relations of extension or
number; 2d, the mechanical laws of gravitation, motion,
friction, &c.; 3d, the qualities and properties (in part
mechanical, in part chemical) of the several materials
that are to be employed or wrought upon.

Now these distinct principles or truths must be sepa-
rately considered; and each in the method proper to
itself^ and must then be combbed b the sbgle result*
ft is thus alone that the arch can bej made to sustam

25

itself and its intended burden;— that the roof will rest
on its plate; — ^that the engine will perform its compli-
cated part; or the simplest implement execute its des-
tined drudgery.*

But owing, in part, to the abstruse nature of the sub-
ject» and to its not being susceptible of palpable proof;
and, in part, to the unhappy accidents which in every
age have beset intellectual philosophy, problems belong-
ing to the science of mind have commonly been at-
tempted to be solved, on the principle of confounding
the abstract with the physical. And then if, in addition
to this capital error, there have been mingled with, the
process the jargon of religious factions, and with that,
the antagonist dogmas of the enemies of all religion, the
smallest probability of attaining a satisfactory result has
been removed; and the aolOal issue of the controversy,
instead of going calmly to its place, like the conclusions
of physical science, has served only to exacerbate new
contentions, either among theologians, or between them
and the assailants of Chrjstianjty.

In the case, therefore, of our availing ourselves of the
reasoning of a writer, like President Edwards, it behoves
us to take heed that we do justice, at oncei, to him and
to ourselves. To him, by not imputing to him^ iwrfi-
vidually, a blame which belongs in common to all meta-
physico-theologlcal writers, of every ^ge-^not one per-
haps excepted. And to ourselves, by assenting to hig
argument only so far as it is purely of an abstract kind;
while we hold ourselves aloof from every conclusion

* See nbte B.

34

losopby — does the gross result of mathematical and
physical scieoce— of those sciences which, resting upon
demonstration or conclusive experiment, are not to be
trifled "with — authenticate, or does it invalidate, the sup-
position? Does it go to favor the belief that the system
of nature is one vast contrariety, inimical to man, and
far better unknown than explored? or does it corroborate
our theorem, that the world, having been put together
by a BeneBcent Power, is so framed as to adjust itself
to the comfort and welfare of man, and precisely in
proportion as its laws and movements are understood
hy kM * The answer need not be formally given,
nor the evidence in detail be recounted. Or is it the
factlhat, though his ready ingenuity turns to his partic-
ular advantage some few favorable accidents of the
material world, yet, that no general correspondence
between him and it can be traced? It were super-
fluous to affirm that the reverse is the truth, and that
Iiuman ingenuity is wholly occupied in keeping pace
with those wealth-giving instructions which philosophy
every day hands over to her sister arts. Man invariably
receives, as well from the surface of nature, as from her
depths, aiticulate invitations to empby his inventive
faculty for extending his command over her movements,
and always for his own benefit. His condition, as a
reasoning and active being, in this system, is by no
means to be likened to that of a shipwrecked crew,
cast upon a desolate island, whoj impelled by necessity,
are fain to convert the rudest and most improper and
unfitting fragments of things to the purposes of art, for

* See note F.

3&

supplying the primaiy wants of life; and who (if. the
phrase may he excused) exist from day to day by
shifts. But rather his circumstances in the abode in
which Beneficence has placed him, might be resembled
to the case of a company of untaught savages, who,
drifting across the seas in their canoe, set foot on a
shore, where they find a deserted city and vacated
palaces. At first their rude ignorance is astounded by
the various works and products of mechanic and elegant
art; — they gaze in idle amazement upon implements,
machineries, decorations, and luxurious contrivances:
and they misname and nususe all things. But after a
while, the (jiormant faculty of reason is quickened by
observation: tentativps are made, and every day is
gladdened by a new discovery of the end and intentbn
of this or the. other article, or implement, Every ac-
cession to their knowledge turns out to be a contribution
to their comforts or advantages; and this for the simple
reason, that all things were designed and constructed
for the benefit and accommodation of just such beings
as these are, who now are learning the me of them. At
length, when knowledge has reached its completion, it
is confessed, that within this . city there is nothing rude^
fortuitous, o€ chaotic^ hut that all bears directly or
reniotely upon the welfare of those who have become
its occupants.

Such i^ the tenor of the evidence given by the de-
monstrable and physical sciences, in support of the
presumption (now no longer a mere presumption) that
man, as an inventive and active being, is placed in the
centre of the harmonies of the material universe; so

Ei-ii: . iJC:

ou

that it shall always, and by the very necessity of nature,
be true, that knowledge is his friend. And while he
learns this great lesson, he derives from it the means of
detecting the mischiefs and fallacies o( false philosophy.
Genuine Science, he well know^, approaches him
always as a kind and bene6cent instructress:— she has
ever some boon in her hand: — she aids and comforts
her pupil^ she walks on mih him in the path of im'-
provement; accelerates his pace; stimulates his ener-
gies; and calls him still on and on towards higher
ground.

But let it for a moment be granted,, that certain met-
aphysical doctrines which convict the common sense
and mora] sentiments of mankind of absurdity, and
which profess to abstain from urging home upon the
vulgar their practical consequences, only by a gracious
indulgence towards certain useful delusions, and neces-
sary. infatuations;^et it, we say, be supposed, that
these doctrines are established by abstract reasoning of
the most peremptory sort. In that case, the human
mind would be placed between two oppugnant demon-
strations. On the one side it looks upon, the mathe-
matical and experimental sciences, v(^hich are all, in
their thousaqd forms, of a friendly and auxiliary char-
acter- — which smile upon human affairs and human
activities. And, on the other side, it sees the single
gloomy metaphysical demonstration, whose first saluta-
tion, when it encounters human nature, js^— Fool and
slave! which instructs only to baffle and to astound,
and to sicken the reasoning faculty, and to create a
contempt of man. and of the universe. And it is found,

37

that while it is the auspicious property of natural philos-
ophy to diffuse itself safely and kindly, and, like a foun-
tain of healing water, from its sources in colleges and
seats of learning, to flow out among the lyiultitude, as a
pure blessing;-— <his other science, this abstract demon-
stration, is (by the confession of those who darkly di-
vulge it) a dire mystery, an esoteric truth, fit only for
sages, and one which it is wise to hide from the popu-
lace, in fact, it proves itself, when it comes among
the vulgar, to be susceptible of no interpretation that
is not pernicious. It is a philosophy which, by no in-
genuity, by no refinements, can safely be broken up into
morsels for distribution: among the people.*

How, then, shall a choice be made between the two
demonstrated, biit incompatible philosophies? How, but
by an indignant rejection of the dark and hostile sci-
ehce, as a sophism, even though to prove it such were
impossible? This doctrine, we say, even though it could
not be disproved, would be overwhelmed, silenced, arid
i^couted, by the concurrent suffrages of all other sci-
ences. It is contradicted by the number or quantity of
proofs; and surpassed in the quality of its evidence: it
may then properly be driven home to the cavern whence
first it issued, arid for ever forbidden to approach the
precincts of humanity, or to mfect the atmosphere of
knowledge, actioti, and virtue. In a word, the question ,
of necessity may be pronounced as nothing to hu-
man NATtTREj for if it be decided in the manner that '
is favorable to ordinary notions, it merges in a roid- — ]

* See note G.

38

disappears, and becomes tbe most nugatory and idle of
all learned trifles. But if determined in the other man*
ner, then it assumes an aspect which places it in contra-
riety to every other science— demonstrable and experi-
mental; and therefore may be spumed as a lie, because
it speaks as an enemy.

SECTION III.

We come to our second supposition — ^namely, that
the question of liberty and necessity is important to
Theology and Christian Doctrine.

All venerable usages, and all vjRnerable n,otions, back-
ed by tbe v^ry cordial acquiescence of atheists and
infidels, answer in the affirmative; and agree in ac-
knowledging that the controversy involves the very ex-
istence of religion. But does common sense authenti-
cate the same decision? Does the analogy of the real
sciences approve it?* Will the sounder views apd better
feelings of a future and happier! era of Christianity con-
/ sent to it? W^e venture to give the negative to these
' interrogations; and are bold, moreover, to predict, that
vthe very next race of divines, our own sons and suc-
cessors, will reject as a sheer absurdity, and aa a pre-
posterous pedantry, that practice and opinion, on this
subject,, which has stood sanctioned by the approval of
all theologians, and all philosophers, of all ages!

• Sec. note H.

S9

The history of the connection between religion and
metaphysical science might be very profitably pursued.*
But volumes would not suffice for the theme. The
natural history of that fatal alliance might be set forth
within much narrower limits; and would, indeed, re-
solve itself mto a few well-known facts, or usages of the
human mind. It is common to human nature (we can-
not here stay to inquire why) to throw itself off from
the familiar ground of pros^imate and intelligible causes,
and to seek such as are abstruse, difficult, and ultimate,
whenever it is agitated by powerful emotions. We
have in this fact one of the sources of superstition; , and
, as it is in a sense true, that fear is the mother of the
gods, so, in a 3ehse, is it also true that anxiety, despond-
eQcy,and the impatience of pain and sorrow, are teach-
ers of metaphysics. It may be dpiibted whether cer-
tam profound speculations would at all have • suggested
themselves to the human mind, if life had been a course
of equable prosperity. It may .be questioned, whether
the inhabitants of worlds unvisited by evO, bow large
soever their inteUigence may be, havq thought of ask-
ing, What is virtue?— or, What is the liberty of a moral
agent? . ^

The conflicts of hope and fear in the heart, and the
assaults, that are ];nade upon hppe by the scepticism or
mockery of those around us, impel us naturally (but
unwisely) to throw up the good and proper evidence
which, though simple, and intelligible, and sufficient,
does not open to tlie mind a depth profound enough to

■ ' * See note I. '

/

(

40

give room for the mighty tossings of the soul in its hour
of distress. — ^The only testimony or proof that is striedy
applicable to the point in question, is thoughtlessly re-
jected; and in an evil moment we transgress the limits
of safety and of comfort, and pass from the ^purux to
the /utrot^o-oLx. When this unhappy error has been com*
mitted, two courses offer themselves; the one is to beat
up and down through the regions of night whereupon
we have entered, until we find, or fancy that we have
found, solid footing, and discern a glimmering of light.
The other course is, by a buoyant effort of good sense,
to spring up at once from the abyss, and effect our re-
turn to the trodden and familiar surface of thbgs.
^ The process is a frequent and familiar one, which
leads the mind to reason on important accasiqna m a
manner which it shuns as lEibsurd in paraUel instances of
a trivial sort. The man who loses his footing in the
street; and besmears a new suit with mud, makes mirth
of the simple accident. But if, when he is on his way
to accomplish some important purpose, to make a- for-
tune, or to rescue one, be falls and breaks a limb, and,
as the consequence, irretrievably forfeits the only aus-
picious moment of his lifd} he then looks at the phUoso^
phy of the mishap; and, as he lies on his couch, medi-
tates and reasons — "of Fate and Providence,** and be-
wilders his best convictions, and, in the gloominess of
his sorrow, persuades himself that there is no heavenly
superintendence of human affairs— that chance is mis-
tress of the world; and at length concludes, that fore-
thought, prudence, and activity, not less than faith and
piety, are a specious folly. He resolves, therefore.

41

henceforward to pursue nothing beyond the sensualities
of an hour. Nevertheless, this same man, whom ca-
lamity has taught to be a metaphysician, adheres still, on
all trivial occasions, to the maxims of vulgar good sense;
his philosophical principles he takes up and lays down,
according to the magnitude or insignificance of the bus-
iness in hand, and is not consistently sage or simple
through the course of a single hour. To avoid the des-
tined track of a bullet that is whizzing through the air,
he would deem a folly; and yet flinches from a splash
of dirt! But should he not remember, that the very
same awful fate that rules the flight of leaden balls,
presides, not less arbitrarily, over the whirling of straws,
the drifting of dust, and the projectile curves of mud?
' It is just conqeivable^ or may at least be imagined,
for the sake of an. illustration, that a corporation, col-
lege, or company, possessed by charter of great pre-
rogatives, extensive rights, and vast wealth, might, if
vehemently urged to defend its monopoly or i^ privilege
against the envy and cupidity of the community, be
seduced so far from the path of common sense, as, in-
stead of insisting pertinaciously upon the intelligible
evidence of the antiquity and genuineness of its charter,
and, instead of establishing the fact of that remote trans-
action, which lawfully invested its ancestors or prede-
cessors with these disputed rights, to join issue with its
opponents on some such physical question, as that of
the possible perpetuity of material substances, like paper
or parchment, from age to age; or on that of the actual
existence of any generations of men antecedent to the
present; or upon that of the abstract communicableness

*4

42

of rights from person to person. Many such whimsical
doubts may be supposed to take place of the simple
business-like questions — ^Is the charter vaKd? — Has it
been truly interpreted? — ^Is it lawfully put in operation?
Yet nese, it is manifest, are the only questions in which
the privileged parties have any peculiar concern; for
those higher and abstruse difficulties belong not in any
specific manner. to the college or corporation, but are
either absolutely futile, or must be held to supersede
and invalidate the whole course of human afiairs.*

An instance very nearly analogous to that of the con-
nection between religion and metaphysical science, has,
in modern times, been actually obu^ided on the world.
Th6 portentous spectacle has been ' exhibited on the
theatre of nations, of a people, whe;i convulsed by polit-
' ical revolutions, and while agitated by the furious pas^
sions of revenge, pride, and rapacity, and while eagerly
contending for the partition'of rights and possessions, to
forget the urgent considerations of national prosperity
and public safety, and to plunge headlong into the abyss
of those unfatho mable speculations that afiect the very
existence of nian as, a social being. So that the fren-
zied multitude, instead of asking — How best shall we
be governed? — have become infected' with a fnetaphysic
madness, which has rendered them incapable of reason-
able submission to any governmentj^ excepting diat of
brute force and terror. f

* See note K.

j The American jrevolution involved no metaphysical problems; and
\% produced no reign of terror, nor did it end in a military dictatorship.

43

And thus, too, it has happened, that the n^omentous
interests of the future life, as set forth by Christianity,
because they profoundly move the soul, and because,
by their interference with ungoverned passions, they
excite hostility, lead both the defenders and the impugn-
ers of a documentary religion aside from the only per-
tinent inquiry— Are the facts duly established, accwd-
ing to the ordinary maxims of testimony, and belief? —
while they discuss controversies, to which religion is
related only in common with the most familiar move-
ments of social life. Let philosophers (or sophists)
deny, if they please, the existence of a material world.
Why should the teachers of Christianity, rather than
any other class of men, rush fprward to oppose the pe-

w

dantic whim? If that denial has in fact any meaning at
all, br if it carrier any inference which men ought to^
listen to, then ishould lawyers leave their courts, as well
as divines their pulpits, and merchants their markets,,
and physicians their hospitals, to join in the fray. ' If
any persons are interested in this abstruse quarrel, aU
are so alike — demonstrably interested in one and the
same degree. Or let philosophers or sophists turn
about and deny the existence, not pf the material world,
but of the intellectual, and moral.* All men, jn this
instance, as well as in the other,, and all human inter-
ests, duties, functions, hppes^ and fears, are either aSke
concerned in the refutation of the learned nonsense, or
may alike, in their several circles of practical activity,
look upon it with utter contempt. Or again, let philo-

* Seie note L.

44

sophers affirm that an unalterable and iron fatality-
immovable sequency of cause and effect, rules the
world. If tliere be any practical inference whatever
— :any inference or corollary which demands respectful
hearing, appended to the doctrine, then that conse-
quence bears evenly upon all activities, upon all mo-
tives, upon all reasons of conduct, upon all calculations
of futurity; and should either be allowed to arrest the
entire machinery of human life, or should be utterly
forgotten and neglected, whenever men are called to
act and feel as rational and moral beings.

We deny, then, that the question concerning moral
causation is one belonging to religion or Christian doc-
trine; because Christianity — the only existing religion —
is, in the mode of its reaching us— in the subject mat-
ter of its communication — in tlie motives which it pre-
, sumes to exist, and in the entire apparatus of its influence,
^ part and parcel with the common material of human
life; and is ho more dependent upon the resolving of
any metaphysical problem, than are the most vulgar in-
terests of commerce, or political institutions, so de-
pendent.*

It enters into the very definition of metaphysical
problems— that they are universals. To bring them,
therefore, down upon an individual instance, to the ex-
clusion of other instances of like quality, is the most
enormous of all possible solecisms. To single out
Christianity from the crowd of human affairs and inter-
ests, and to assail it, so singled out, with propositions

* 8^ Bote M.

45

which, by their very essence, are equally true of aO
things, or false of all, is the same sort of proceeding, as
if a mathematician, after demonstrating the properties
of the triangle, were to apply his doctrine only t6 such
triangles as are formed by the rafters and joists of a
roof.

If Christianity asks credit on any {)rinciple that is not
recognised by the customary proceedings of mankind;
or if it demands any motives or course of conduct, for w^
JQstifying which we must appeal to abstruse theorems;
then it must, of course, be separated from the fellow-
ship of human affairs, and left to contend as it can with
every hostile abstraction. But, if none of these things can
be said, is it not most |)reposterous to involve it at all with
such abstractions? ' And assuredly it need not be impli-
cated with the question of necessity;, for this, as we
have already said, if determined in on_e manner, is a
perfect evaporatiany leaving no residuum: or if deter-
mined in the other, even though by a seeming demon-
stration, ought to be spumed in its assault upon reljgibn;
Jirsty because it must arrest the entire movements of the
moral and intellectual world, if it would impede any
one class of these movements; and secondly^ because,
if it does so ihterfere, or claims a right to disturb an
existing and salutary order of actions and sentiments, it
stands as a solitary exception among the sciences, all of
which, both abstract and experimental, are founds when
brought to their perfection, and when purified from em-
piricism, to be of a benign character, and actually come
in to promote and facilitate those operations which the
uninstructed common sense or the instinctive ingenuity

46

of TD€Q had previously set in movement.* The pro-
bability, therefore, that this pretended demonstration b
a mere sophism, favored by the abstruseness of the sub-
ject, and the vagueness of its signs, is as a thousand to
one — or much more than a thousand. The teachers of
Christianity should, then, barely cast upon doctrines of
this class a smile of contempt; and hold on their way,
as men whose business stands upoq the intelligible
ground of facts and experiment.

The more delicate, but not more obscure question,
now meets us, whether the abstractions of pure meta-
physics can at all avail, or ought to be had recourse to,
for the purpose of determining those controversies which
arise among Christians, in consequence of a different
interpretation of certain portions of the Document of
Faith.

Whoever should, undertake to answer this question
in the negative, might, if he chose to argue the point
by an apf >eal to facts, find abundant materials fitted to
his purpose in the whote course of church history, coni^
mencing with the Platomc fathers, and ending with the
last writers on both sides of the Calvinistic controversy.
Nothing, we say, would be more easy than, in this way,
to throw immense disgrace upon the venerable practice
of converting Chris1;ianity into a quibble of metaphysics.

But the fruidessness and inexpediently of this method
q{ conducting Biblical controversy might be forcibly
argued alone from the instance of the "Inquiry con-
cerning Freedom of Will." Its acknowledged supe*

* See ndte N.

■Cr

47

riority to any theological work with which it might
properly be compared — ^a* superiority confessed, as well
by philosophers as divines-**^nd its exemption from the
vulgar sins of polemical literature, point it out as an
mstance of the most unexceptionable sort. Yet, what
has been the result? A real and signal service, as we
have already granted, has been rendered by it to the
cause of important truths; but the service has accrued
indirectly: while it has utterly failed to bring the con-
troversy between Calvinists and Arminians to a satis-
factory issue.— i-The metaphysics of Edwards demol-
ished the metaphysics of Whitby. This was natural
and fit; for the philosophy of Arminianism could no
more endure a rigid analysis, than a citadel of rooks
could maintain its Integrity against a volley of muske-
try. And, moreover, the metaphysics of Edwards im-
posed a degree of respect upon the flippancy of philos-
ophers. But then (not again to insist upon the fact,
that the "Inquiry" has become almost the text book
of infidelity) it has not in any sensible degree brought
hiome the abstract argument to the purely theological
difficulty. It has Irft things where they were, in this
respect, only with the disadvantage of suggesting a tacit
conviction — that, What Edwards could not eflTeet, can
never be effected. The apparently incompatible propo-
sitions may therefore be affirmed, that, while our author,
as the champion of Calvinism, has achieved a victory,
and driven his antagonists from the ground they had
unwisely occupied; he has confirmed and perpetuated
the religious difference, by the mere fact of having fail-
ed in his attempt to compose it. Is it, then, at all to be

48

desired that a second philosophic Calvinist^ should un-
dertake the task of leading Arminians on the path of
scientific demonstration, to a cordial acquiescence in the
plam meaning of certain portions of the Scriptures?—
We think not.

Nevertheless, it ought not to be regarded as an im-
probable event that pious Calvinists should at length
meet pious Arminians on common ground; and that the
difierence between the two parties should for ever be
merged in a Biblical doctrine.

But an accordance so happy will assuredly be the
result, not of the perfection of metaphysical theology,
but of a better understanding of the special nature and
unique constitution of the Document of Faith, which)
unlike any other writing, is at once sim[dy the work of
human minds; ^nd not less absolutely the work of the
Divine Mind.f As a human work — as a collection of
ancient treatises, letters, and histories, composed by
almost as many authors as there are separate pieces, it
is plainly liable to all the ordinary conditipns of other
ancient literature; and not merely to the critical^ but to
the logicid conditions that belong tp the products of
the human mind; and of course when categorically in-
terrogated for its evidence, in relation to certair^ abstract
positions^ derived, not from itself^ but from a variable
theological science, will yield not a few apparent eon^
trarieties. This would certainly be the case, even wera
the Bible the work of a single author.

* Se« note a t S«« note P.

49

But the Bible claims no respect at aH as an authority
in religion, unless it be received as, in the fullest sense,
a Divine work. As such, it must have its peculiar
conditions; and these (or the most important of them)
spring from the fact, that the Scriptures contain true
information, explicit or implied, concerning more sys-
tems of things than one, or more orders of causation
than one. But then this information consists just of
those portions, or sections, or segments, of these sev-
eral systems, or of these series of causes, which con-
tain practical inferences, important to the special process
of restoring mankind to virtue. It will follow from this
description bf the b^aveiji-descended canon of religious
truth, that the harmony of the various portions will
never come within the range of the methods of human
science; for human science is drawn from one system
only, and is imperfect and vague, even in relation to
that one system.*

Illustrations are always faulty, and always liable to be
perverted; yet may they serve a good purpose when
advanced simply as such; and. not urged as proofs or
arguments. Let it then be supposed that, to a number
of intelligent persons, instructed in nothing beyond the
first elements of mathematical science, there were to
be given — ^not a diagram or description, , but some of
ihe distinguishing, and some of the most recondite prop-
erties of the three conic sections — ^the ellipsis, the par-
abola, and the hyperbola; and that it were demanded of
them, not only to find curves possesising precisely such

' • See note Q.

50

properties, but to find one regular and simple Jigure
which should contain the three harmoniously upon its
surface. Now it must be granted, as hypothetically
possible^ that some one of these persons, either by a
happy accident, or by force of intelligence, might at
teugth produce the cone, and demonstrate upon it the
several properties of the theorem. But to make our
illustration complete, it should be supposed that no such
figure as a cone had ever actually been seen or thought
of, by the persons to whom the problem is given. What
then would be the probable event? — ^May we not assume
it as likely, that each individual, attaching himself by
preference to the properties of some one of the three
propoi^ided curves, and giving his attention almost ex-
clusively to its peculiarities, and succeeding, perhaps, in
the attempt to reconcile among themselves these separ-
ate conditions, would . be ii^clined to impugn, as neces^
larily fahe, the processes by which, hi^ companions,
were finding the other two curves; and, being satisfied
with the soundness of his own reasoning, would deem
that of his friends absolutely irreconcilable with it. And
so it must seem inevitably, until the one true harmonic*
ing figure is actually produced.

But how soon might a fierce controversy arise among
the perplexed inquirers! How soon would there take
place a separation of the partisans of the ellipsis, the
parabola, and the hyperbola! The friends of the first
of the curves would think themselves justified in de-
nouncing the hyperbolists as extravagant heretics; while
these, and toith equal reasouy would hold in contempt
the timidity of the ellipsists. Meanwhile, the parabol-

^

51

ists, much admiring their own moderation, ^nd not
doubting that it was they who alone held the happj
middle way upon which truth loves to walk, and hence
believing themselves qualified to act as mediators be.
tween the extreme parties, would gravely say much that
was very plausible, and exceedingly well intended; b,ut
would not in fact advance even a single step toward a
true conciliation of the difference; — for this simple rea*
son — ^that they are just as far as their companions from
knowing the one actual principle of explanation. — ^The
parabola may seem, but it is not in fact, or in any de-
gree, a reconciling - truth between the ellipsis and the
hyperbola, for the ellipsis and^ the hyperbola are not at
vakriance. But the controversy, though it tends to no
satisfactory issue, is producing these two ill consequen-
ees.(not to mention the excitement of bad feelings among
friends,) namely, that those of the company whose tem-
per was the most. calm and sceptical, would be haunted
by troublesome suspicions, that he who proposed the
problem had made sport of the ignorance of all, by
affirming things strictly paradoxical. And then the by-
sttoders would ^most certainly learn to treat the whole
affair — ^tbe problem, its, propoundei:, "and the Actions,
with utter contempt. But we ' suppose that at this in«
st^nt the propounder enters, and forthwith extingubhes
the feud by the production of the cone! and all contra-
rieties are at once reconciled; all suspicions are dis*
pelled; .and eager dogmatists of all creeds are put to
the blush!

To defend the propriety of this illustration in all its
parts would be idle. It is enough if it explains the as-

52

sertioQ, that the Scriptures, because true and divinCf
aod because that tbey propound separated parts, prop-
erties, or relations of systems not known, will for ever
baffle the attempt to reduce their testimony within the
completeness and rotundity of a human science. If it
be so, it will follow, that metaphysical reasoning, how
rigid and exact soever, is not to be looked to as the
means of adjusting' Biblical controversies. That it may
seem for a while to do so, is granted; but the specious con-
ciliation will either be a mere confounding of an antag-
onist by force of logical strength; or it will have heen
effected by constraining some portions of the scriptural
evidence.

We conclude that the question of liberty and neces-
sity, or of moral causation, is one in which Christianity
has no peculiar interest, and from the determination dl
which it can neither derive permanent advantage, nor
receive lasting damage.

SCCl^ION IV.

. • » ■ ■

We proceed to inquire in what manner, and to what
extent, die question of liberty and necessity belongs to
the PntsiOLOGY of the Human Mind.

No one would affirm, or indeed could consistently
imagine, that either the idealism of Berkeley, or the
non-causal causation of Hume, or any similar doctrine^
can properly occasion even the smallest difficulty or ob-
struction to the cbeaust who is discovering the affinities

.Ah^

63

jof acids and alkdies, di^ lP6s(>lvmg earths into their ele^
ments. Whether or not there be an external world, '
and whether or not it be put m movement by efficient
causes, it remains true^--thkt heat is evoked or absorbed
in the process of a* new combination; — ^that sulphuric
acid will change a vegetable blue to red; — ^and that
combustion goes on more rapidly in oxygen gas than in
common air. These facts may be mere phenomena of
the world of mind;* or real events in the world of mat-
ter; — ^they may result from efficient causes, or not so,
Moitk perfect indifference to the science of chemistry.
And, in like manner, is it a matter of absolute indif-
ference to the naturalist, while informing himself of the
internal structure of animals, or of their dispositions,
faculties, and habits, in what way the systems of ideal-
ists, of materialists, of necessitarians, or of sceptips, ate
disposed of. The stomach, the brains, the bone, of the
dog, the horse, and the camel, will continue just what
they are, whether or not those animals are affirmed to-
be mere intellectual phantasms, or afe allowed to be
actual existences, and .whether or not Causation be "an
empty illusion of the fancy," or a connection of power
between successive events. And not less independent
of these speculative , doctrines is the inquiry (for in-
stance) concerning the internal process which fills up
the interval of time,"or which completes the connection
between an impression on the senses of an animal, and
the correspondent movement of his limbs. If it be
asked, What takes place within the cerebral machine

* Principles. of Hqnaan Knowledge.

*6

54

when, the bawk| from his motionless point in the skjr,
discerns his victim m the grass, and descends like light*
ning to the earth? — this purely physical inquiry has no
more connection with the theories of metaphysicians,
than subsists between those theories . and any chemical
or mechanical fact.

And, manifestly, the conditions of physical science
are not altered by merely turning from one class of sen-
tient beings to another; — from the lower to the higher
order of animals, from zoophytes to reptiles, from quad-
rupeds to man. If, for example, a scientific inquiry
relates to the anatomy of the visual organ; or to the
\ mental processes of perception; or to the combinations
\ of impressions from two or more of the senses; or to
; the laws and conditions of vplition; or to the influence
"^ of animal appetites, or moral emotions; or to the oper^
ation of the reasoning faculty;-r-all these are matters of
, fact J belonging to the actual conformation of this or of
that animal; and are as strictly physical^ and as absp-^
.^ lutely independent of metaphysical dogmas and abstract
truths, as are the affinities of acids^ and the crystalliza-
tbn of salts. There would, . indeed, never have been
^ occasion, even so much as to affirm this 'independence

of physics and metaphysics, were it npt that the imme-
morial practice of Confounding the science of the human
mind with pure abstractions, has filled both departments
qf intellectual philosophy with absurdity; and has de-
a/^ tained both, to the present day, in a state of infancy.*

* See note R.

65

If it were asked— Of what is the dog or the horsd
capable? what may fairly be demanded of them in the
way of service? or of what improvement' may their na-
tive faculties be susceptible by means of edupatioQ, by
rewards, punishments, and instructions? These inqui-
ries, simply physical as they are, must be resolved by
observation and experiment; and cannot, even in the
most remote manner, be affected by abstract doctrines
of the sort that constitutes the greater part of what is
termed the "science of mind." Whether the intelli-
gence and moral sensibilities of a certain species might
be wrought upon by culture to a greater extent than has
yet been attempted, or whether it has already readied
its limit of improvement, is a question tipon which not '
a single ray of light could be thrown^ even by the most
complete solution of the problems which fill the pages
of writers on intellectual philosophy. The intellectual
character and capacities of each order- of conscious be-
ings are matters of faqt; asmOch so as the fusibility and
malleability of a metaL

, In a word, any sort of practical question, relating to
the dispositions, constitutional rnotives, or proper treat-
ment, of this or that species of animals, higher pr lower,
must be determined in the methods proper to physical
science; and can neither be illustrated nor interfered
with by those unchanging truths which draw not their
materials from the world as it is. Thus, we not only
distinguish the two sciences of physics and metaphys-
ics; but alBrm their absolute independence one of the
other. And as no inference drawn from the former caa

impugn the .demonstrations of the latter; so neither can

. 1

66

/

■I

I
f

these demonstrattoDS reach, or modify, the actual con-*
formatbn of any of the families of the sentient world:"
spite of metaphysics, lions, bears, antelopes, and men,
will go on to feel and to act as always they have done«
\ To suppose the contrary, were the same absurdity as to

imagine that salts will henceforward crystallize in other
angles than formerly, when it shall be proved that there
is no such thing as efficient causation.

The end of physical science, is to discover, or lay

bare^ the actual constitution of its subject; — ^not to ex-

V punge or reject any of the facts belonging to the nature

of that subject. And it should not be forgotten, that as,
in investigations of this sort, the ultimate facts are al-
ready in our possession, no very important truth can be
i expected to result from even the most complete analysis

I of the phenomena. Science is little better than a learn-'

1 ed amusement, when employed in analysing a mechan-

[ jsra, the powers of which are already familiarly knowrtj

f and the conformation of which is wnaftcra6Ze.-*— This is

very much the disadvantage of the entire circle of in-
tellectual philosophy.

If the operation of motives in the human mind, or if
the laws of human agency, be the subject of inquiry,
our business is to explain, if we can, these familiar pro-
cesses; not to deny any of their conditions. The sci-
ence of human nature finds man a reasoning animal,
and finds him master of his welfare (to a certain ex- .
tent,) and finds him a moral and religious being, influ-
enced by the anticipation of future events, and ruling
his conduct by a reference to the opinion and conduct
of other beings. These facts are to be denuded, if it be

67

possible to denude them; but assuredly not to be reject-
ed or overiooked. We' may describe Aotl^ .the moral
emotions work; but not affirm that .there are no such
influences. The less indulgence should be granted to
the audacity of speculation in the region of mental phi-
losophy, because, though its sophisms may dangerously
pervert the common sense of mankind, its truths (ex**
cept just so far as they explode such sophisms) have
almost nothing to offer of practical instruction. And if
this be true of the science in general, it is peculiarly so
of that branch pf it which treats of the process of voli-
tion; — ^no one would be so fantastic as to expect that
even the most complete anatomy of the voluntary prin-
eiple could j in its inferences, be so brought in contact
with the minds of' the i;nass of mankind, as either to
lessen the vblence of impetuous passions, or to enhance
the vigor of virtuous emotions.— ^This truly is not the
style of human nature:-^Hiian is not constituted to draw
his reasons and motives from the theory of his own men-
tal conformation: and if we would imagine an extreme
instance of intellectpal hjfpochondrmsisy it must be the
case of a philosopher, who, whenever he proposed to
move, speak, or act, must first Anxiously consider in
what order to pull the -strings of die intellectual machine.
We grant, indeed, that the philosophy of the agency
Gif sentient and voluntary bemgs is a matter of rational
curiosity. But it is nothing more; and of far less con-
sequence to the welfieire of man, than would be the dis-
covery of a new chemical agent; or of a satellite to the
planet Mars: for the one might facilitate three or four
of the mechanic arts; and the other would ghre to the

.1

n

58

navigator an additional celestial chronometer. But a
perfect and true theory of volition must leave volition
precisely what always it has been.

Moreover, physical science is distingufshed from ab*»
stract science, both mathematical and metaphysical^ in
this important particular, that the processes of the latter
are entirely dependent upon absolute precision in the
use of the signs or terms employed;* so that the small-
est inaccuracy disturbs the whole series of deductions,
and falsifies the con'clusion. Hence the confessed ob«
scurity and uncertainty of intellectual philosophy, arising
from the vagueness and variableness of language — ^the
only signs it can employ. But the processes and results
of physical science are happily exempt from any such
disadvantage. For if a fact in the conformation of an
organised body be ascertained— if it be reaUy knoum
to the discoverer, it may be expressed or described in
a variety of modes; and may be spoken of in a copi-
ousness of terms, more or less proper, until there. shaU
be no danger of mistake on the part of the reader. It
follows hence (when the philosophy of human nature
is treated, as it ought, physically, not abstractedly) that
that anxious and prudish nicety of language which belongs
to metaphysical discussions, will be discarded with con-
tempt. . Whatever pretended fact in the philosophy of
mind cannot be correctly communicated, except in one
set of phrases, may safely be rejected as a subtilty,
altogether insignificant to physical science. The mod-
ern chemical nomenclature, though it must be regarded

* See note S.

69

IS a highly important instrument for faciKtating the dif-
fiisioQ of the science, and for giving simplicity and pre-
cision to the record of its discoveries, cannot be deemed
an inseparable or indispensable means of making them
known. The same facts might be correctly described
in any colloquial medium; or might be coqveyed to the
minds of a people destitute of the erudition which makes
our Greek and Latin terms intelligible to the English,
French, and Germans. The same is true of physical
facts of all kinds; but not of metaphysical truths, which
are precbely — as their signs are.

The custom of considering the volitions and agency

»

of man as a matter of abstract sciedice, has favored the
supposition, that volition is simple or uniform in its mode,
of springing up from the mind* ' But if the real world
of sentient beings is looked at, it will at once be seen,
both that each species has its peculiar conditions of the
voluntary principle, and that volition in each species
results, at different times, from very different internal
processes. It would appear, then, to be the natural
course to look out, first, for the simplest instances of
vdition; and then to ascend from them to such as are
complex, and not so readily analysed. This order of
ihvestigatbn directs us to the inferior classes of the ani-
mal community; it being probable that, in narrowly ob-
serving instances bf.less complicated organisation, we
diall become insensibly qualified to dissect that which
is more so. For as we may fairly presume, the more
complicated orders take up into their mental machinery
the elements that have been singly developed in the
lower ranks of existence. It is, indeed, alone on this

60

presumptioD that we can avail ourselves at afl oftbe
fruits of observation, gathered from the movements and
habits of inferior species. For it is only by a reference
to our own consciousness, that we interpret such facts;
and this interpretation presupposes the homogeneity of
the elements of sentient existence. If a pure intelli-
gence, or simply rational essence, wholly destitute of all
appetite, emotion, imagination, were to descend into this
world of hungry, thirsty, passionate, irascible, and pleas-
ure-loving beings, it would find itself utterly at a loss in
endeavoring to comprehend the movements which it
witnessed. That is to say, having no participation of
the elements of the animal and moral nature, it would'
want the glossary of mundane life, and possess no means
of bterpretation: — all it saw would be a riddle.

But this is not the case when man looks around him
upon his feUows of inferior rank; — ^for, possessing as be
doe^ all the elements of animal and moral life, he dis-
cerns very few operations which he does not at once
know hqw to translate mto the language of his own
nature; and he is thus qualified to philosophise, as virell
upon the mental conformatioaof birds and quadrupeds,
as upon that of bis own tribe. We say, he witnesses
very few operations unintelligible to him; for there are
movements carried on, especially by the. more minute
tribes, and those that are the most remote from himself,
which nothing in his own nature enables him to under-
stand:— they are facts not interpretable by conscious-
ness, and are accordingly designated by a term which
has no other significance than that of standing for a ctass
of facts not understood. Whatever principle of agency

61

ia the animal world is no element of the human con-
stitution, is called Instinct.* These inexplicable facts,
Jt is evident, can afford us no aid in the business of ana-
lysing the operations of the human n^ind; and are "there-
fore to be excluded from the process of induction.

The inferior orders pf conscious beings offer to our
notice two or three distinguishable elements of volition,
together with the rude commencements of another, for
the full developement of which we must look to the
higher nature of man.

When the huffing gusts of November assail the em-
browned forests, it is the amusement of an idle moment
to watch the course of a single leaf, torn from a topmost
bough, and to follow its flight, hurried hy eddies of
wind into t,he fields of upper air^^there to perform jiddy
circuits^ — the sport of chance; until, boirne away by the
general current, it travels \yest or east, and slowly de-
scends to its destined resting-place on a distant spot.
A movement not altpgether unlike that of the severed
leaf, driven of the winds, is displayed by the wanton
flight of the swallow on a tranquil summer's evening:
and if the atmosphere were not seen (o be motionless,
one might well imagine that the bird, like tlie leaf, was.
passively yielding to every, fitful blast. But let the lit-
tle aeronaut be brought to the earth, and his structure
examined; and it will become manifest that his move-
rnents have sprung from other than external impulses.
We first notice the, mechanical apparatus by which the
living machine is held, buoyant in the air; and then, by

♦ See note T.

■6 .,■•,■•

4

r*^.-^.

•

It

i
I

\

62

dissection, follow the silvery threads which connect the
merely mechanical parts — ^the solid frame-work— and
the contractile fibres, with the head; whereon, also, are
set those instruments which bring the animal into intelli-
gent contact with distant objects around it. Here, then,
are the means of movement; and the means, also, of
keeping this movement in correspondence with place
and circumstance of the external world. But we still
have to seek the motive^ or impulse of movement.

Let, then, the palpitating bosom be reft, and we shall
find the gastric sack, with its solvent juices and its
peristaltic action; and we perceive that it is gorged with
insects,' in every progressive stage of dissolution and of
assimilation to the solid and fluid matter of the animal.
We need not doubt, then, that the acrid chemical agent,
which is accomplishing this conversion of the substance
of one animal into that of another, acts also, when not
so occupied, in some such way upon the sack itself as
to excite an uneasiness, which being conveyed to the
centre of conscidusness, and being there conjoined with
familiar impressions from the external world, and meet-
ing there, also, the springs of muscular irritability, give
impulse to the machine in the direction towards that
external object, the image of which already exists in
the memory conjoined with the sensations of gratified
appetite. Now, in this dissection of the machine of an-
imal life, the relation of parts, and their intferaction for
the production of a single result, are perfectly intelligi-
ble; — as much so as is the mechanism of a watch. But
in the construction both of the watch and of the bird,
there are certain ultimate connections which lie beyond

N--'

->) a

63

our ken, and which can be known only in their products.
In the watch, these inscrutable facts are — ^the principle
of elasticity in the springs, and the vis inertia of the
balance-wheel. That is to say, the two last causes in
the machine can be traced no further than to a certain
expansive property of steel, and to the universal law of
momentum. In the machinery of the bird, the unknown
or ultimate facts, though more m number, are not in
themselves more recondite or obscure; but just as much
so — ^neither more nor less. They are such as these;
the chemical power of the several fluids; the principle
of muscular contraction; the principle of assimilation
and growth; and the whole cerebral apparatus of sen-
sation, and the interaction of sensatiops from without
and within, producing locomotion, or muscular action.
That is to say, as in the watch, so in the bird, the ar-
rangement of parts and functions is. intelligible, but the
powers are unknown.

And yet, notwithstanding our hopeless ignorance, in
both, instances, of the ultimate connections, we may
safely and certainly reason concerning the proximate
and intelligible parts of the contrivance; and may, with-
out being supposed to understand what in all cases lies
beyond human knowledge,' affirm that we comprehend
the mechanism both of the watch and of the bird. The
theory of the regular movement of wheels and indica-
tors is truly given when all the parts that connect the
elasdcity of the two springs with the vis inertia of the
balaace-wheiel are described. And in like manner, the
theory of action in the animal is truly given, when the
sereral correspondences between the stomachy wmgsy

t^.. ."

64

eyes, ears, and brain of the bird, are enumer"
ated.

But this one account of the movements of the ani-
mal machine does not explain all the facts observable in
the wanton flight of a swallow; for, beside some other
movements, which, like those already mentioned, are
easily traced home to certain functions or organs, as
those were traced to the stomach, there are actions not
to be in any such manner explained, it by no means
appears that the litde unlicensed venator invariably di-
rects his flight towards the nearest or the best-fed gnat
at any moment within his circle of vision; nor that he
is diverted from the pursuit of his victim, oi^ly by this
or that assignable object of alarm, or of social attrac-
tion: his aerial gambols are too various, free, and erratic,
to be all assigned to impulses of this order. It may be
well, however, to turn to another subject in search of
tliis other law of animal agency.

The young horse that, free a-field, makes large orbits
over' the level mead, is neither hunting his prey, nor
flying before an enemy; yet does he put forth his powers
of speed as if death were ' behind him, or life before.
He stops on his course; snuffs the gale; leaps and plun-
ges; snorts, and again darts on ward;— in pursuit of noth-
ing! Here our consciousness (unless octogenarians) aids
us to .interpret the seemingly causeless activity. To the
plenitude of muscular power, and to the full tide of ani-
mal spirits, belongs an appetite asking for movement
and sport; and this same desire, combined with other
impulses, or taking its turn with them, in colts, kittens,
children, and boyish adults, is the cause of a great part

,1

'^1

68

t>r ^ the hutry and the change which keep the world
from stagnation. — ^But again; if the gay activity of the
young horse be narrowly observed, a belief will be sug»
gested that his course from side to side of his pasture—
his capricious pauses, and his starts, obey yet some
other internal law. He bites the grass a moment,—*-
raises his head,-^eems to ponder some freakish device^
and, like the lightning, springs from bis place, and is
hardly to be followed by the eye. May it not be sur-
mised — ^and if the manners of animals of all classes
are watched, must it not be believed, that within the
brain of the animal, (if indeed the brain be the seat of
consciousness) as weU as within the braios df men, an
incessant movement is gobg on;* or a stream of recol-
lected sensations, fortuitously connected one with anoth-
er, is flowing perpetually? Then these recovered emo-
tions, or sensations, meeting, each moment, either with
impressions from the senses, or with desires from the
several viscera of life, form infinitely varied combina-
tions of action, ft is as if this under-current of thought
had been included in the mental structure of the animal
for the very purpose of breaking up that uniform, and
mechanical, and calculable succession of movements,
whkh must needs have resulted from the dull influ-
ence of three or four simply reasonable motives of ac-
tion. By the means of this e^s^quisite contrivance, which
diversifies, indefinitely, the agency of the animal — the
animal moves over a far larger circle of activity-^meets
with a thousand times more new ocoasionsi and comes

• See note U.

•6

K

66

in contact with many more means of enjoyment, than
could happen, if he were the mere creature of his
appetites and desires.'

In reference to these primary causes of action, name-
ly, the desires of animal life, and the irascible, amato-
ry, and cautionary emotions that spring from them; and
the love of muscular action; and the suggestions of the
perpetual current of thought; it is to be noted, that
muscular movement takes place, in the strictest sense,
spontaneously; or, shall we say, simultaneously with its
cause? The cause and effect are not divided by an
interval of deliberation; there is no "determining to
determine," nor "willing to will," nor balancing of
reasons. To such instances the metaphysical analysis
of volition, as consisting of a series of mental opera-
tions, is utterly inapplicable. We derive the notion of
such an analysis from a class of volitions essentially dif-
fering from animal agency: and it is a gross violation of
the rules of science to extend it to cases with which k
has no affinity.

But the lower classes of the sentient system offer
also to our observation (in its ruder forms, at least) that
complex order of Volitions which, in the adult and cul-
tured human subject, often supersedes those of a simple
and elementary kind. Let us turn from the young horse
a-field, to the old horse in the stable; and we shall find,
in his behavior, many instances of an agency which
implies a mental process of inference; or, the connect-
ing of event with event, and the deduction of a motive
therefrom: or, in other words, we shall find him reason-
ing to a certain extent; and acting in a manner which

i

67

could never be accounted for on any of the principles
already mentioned. The hackney who, times innumer-
able, has been saddled or collared, when he catches
the footstep of his groom approaching the stable, awakes
from the lethargy in which perhaps he had been stand-
ing in front of his rack: and if this lord of his destinies
appears booted and spurred, and lays a hand upon the
saddle and bridle, the provident animal, not doubting
that he is to be led from his stall, to which he may not
soon return, begins, without loss of time, and with'the
utmost possible assiduity, to grind and swallow as large
a stock of the material before him as his powers of mas-
tication and deglutition will admit of. Now we must
suppose, in this instance, a mental process in some de-
gree complex, or ratiocinative, and one which differs
essentially from that mere association of memory and per-
ception which is shewn when the same animal swerves
from his track, and turns aside toward the inn where
heretofore he has been stabled and fed.

Yet is this faculty of mental combination very limited
in the horse; so much so, that (a few extraordinary in-
stances excepted)* he scarcely at all conforms himself
reasonahly to the new occasions that arise in the course
of the service he renders to man. Let him but entan-
gle his fore leg in the strap or chain of his head-stall,
and he will either stand so shackled until he is lamed,
or will plunge and kick until his strength is spent; al-
though, if he were capable of calmly considering the
nature of his embarrassment, he might, by the simplest

N

I I

• See note W.

u I

«8

movement, get himself free from all difficulty* The
horse, therefore, must be cared for, as an infaqt, by his
master; and under the circumstances of the artificial
mode of life which he leads as the servant of man,
thwarts his own real welfare in a hundred instances, be-
cause he cannot comprehend that connection of cause
end effect on which it depends. He cannot compare,
or simultaneously entertain different ideas; or only in
a very low degree.

Nevertheless, the horse possesses enough of intellec-
tual faculty and sentiment to be dealt with advantage-
ously, in the method of praise and blame, of punishment
and reward;* and he actually takes rank in the worfd
of moral agents, inasmuch as he is sensible to emotions
of shame and honor; and is capable also, in a small de-
gree, of governing one impulse by another. A horse
may, therefore, be managed by means which it would
be utterly absurd to address to a hen, a goose, a pig, or
an ass. The agency of one class of animals is found
to differ from that of another, by all the amount of an
additional element. And it would be highly unphilo-
sophical to reason concerning the two as if they were
one and the same. And here the reader must again
be reminded that, whether or not we are able to push
our analysis of these elements as far as we might desire,
we must concede the fact of a diversity in the mental
conformation of different animals, given to one species
a much wider range of action than is occupied by anoth-
er; and the reader, while he grants this fact, will easily

* See oote X.

69

divine the application that may be made of it to the
human race.

We ascend many degrees on the scale of reason, of
moral sensibility, and of complex volition, when we
turn from -the horse to the dog.. This intelligent and
sensitive animal, associated, not by mere accident, with
man, but made for his companionship, and not unwor-*
thily called his friend, may be said to stand as an
anomalous instance in the system of sentient beings}
inasmuch as, while in other species (perhaps every
other species) there exists a manifest correspondence,
or functional equality y* between the mechanical struc-
ture of the animal and his mental capacity; so that any
supposed addition to his muscular i^nplements would be
useless, without more intelligence than he actually pos-
sesses: — the dog has more mind than instrument. His
pdwer of reason and his sensibility, on a thousand occa-
sions, and very remarkably, go beyond the range of bis
mechanical apparatus. The dog is, in this sense, a
fiecrfy animal; and he is the only one so put to difficul-
ty. He could effect much more than he does, both for
himself and his master, if his legs and paws were capa-
ble of a greater diversity of movements: yet, perl^aps,
we ought rather to consider him as an animal over--
rich in sense, than as an intelligence poor in means.

A good test for discovering the elements of the men-:

tal conformation of any order of beings, \f afforded,

^r^^, by the familiar and unquestionable facts of the

educational treatment whicb common experience proves

to be applicable to it; and then^ by the emotions or sen-

* See note Y.

■.^". ■ ""^

70

timents which are excited in our minds by its qualities
or dispositioDS. In this method we employ, as it were^
a chemical agent for bringing to light a concealed in-
gredient. The dog is the subject of abundantly more
education, and is the object of far more sentiment than
the horse; not arbitrarily or accidentally so; but be-
cause he possesses more intellectual faculty, and
more sensibUity. His senses are eminendy acute;
his memory is retentive and exact; his passive
power of acquiring habits b great; and, to complete
his mental endowments, he is able, in a considerable
degree, to hold in combination more than two or thi^ee
connected ideas; and among them to select the proper
mference from the antecedents. Thus qualified, he
remembers his master's usages; comprehends his mas^
ter's operations; and acts his part in accomplishing his
master's intentions. Then, as a moral being, he is sus-
ceptible of &o. lively and pertinacious an attachment to
mdividuals; he has so much sense of duty and of honor;
and is capable of so intense a wretchedness under the
sense of ill conduct and merited displeasure — ^that he
becomes properly the object of correlative sentiments
of affection, complacency, or displeasure, in the human
mind. The dog, in virtue of his personal character, or
his individual dispositions, is, apart from all sophistica-
tion or extravagance, regarded with feelings which it
would be as unreasonable to restrain, when so called
forth, as to bestow in the same degree upon any other
species of domestic animals.

And yet the dog is limited in his range of mental
faculty and of sensibility; and, in comparing his powers

71

with those of man, we discern the more clearly the
foundation of that different treatment of which the higher
nature is the subject; — and discern, too, the ineffable
absurdity of the metaphysical doctrine which assumes
the agency of men, of brutes, and of machines, to be
one and the same thing. The dog, not endowed with
that inexplicable faculty which prompts the beaver to
construct for himself a hut; or the white ant to erect
a cathedral of mud; or the rook to weave for his
family an aerial tabernacle,- — ^has no rational power
of attaining a similar resuU. If deprived of his com-
fortable kennel, he will nestle in a corner, or edge him-
self into a rick; but never attempts (though loose ma-
terials of all sorts are lying about) to construct a house'.
He feels that a wall, or fence, or stack, gives him pror
tection from rain and wind; but he does not separate
this common quality of the wall, fence, or stack, from
the particulars in which it is found; or think of it ab-
stractedly; and therefore does not conceive of it as re-
siding in ia new combination of matter, to be assembled
by himself. Or, to exhibit the same limitation of fac-
culty under another condition. The dog may learn
to take a penny to the shop, to deposit it on the counter,
and, with significant gesture, to demand his roll. But
the most laborious endeavors would, probably, fail to
teach him the equity of the relation between two pence
and two rolls, and three pence and three rolls. Nor,
supposing that he had dropped one of the pieces of
money on the way, would he draw for himself the in-
ference, that he must, therefore^ content himself with
one roll the less. And yet a very young child would

72

perceive these relations, and deduce these inferences;
or /Would, at least, uaderstand them instaataneously, or
as by f flash of IntelligeDce, when explained to him.

The want, or, at least, the extreme limitation of the
power of abstraction^ and of comparison ef complex
relations, affects, in an essential manner, the moral con-
stitution of these inferior species; even of the most in-
telligent of them. And the possession of such powers
gives to man his responsibility, invests him with the anx-
ious prerogative of being master of his destinies; and,
in a word, transfers him from the present to a future
system of retributive treatment.

But we must advance by degrees towards our con-
clusion. The more sensitive species of animals, espe-
cially the dog and the elephant, enter within the pale of
the moral system, or stand at its threshold (just as, in
virtue of their sagacity, they enter within the pale of the
intellectual,) by their susceptibility of elementary emo-
tions, which place them, to a certain extent, in commu-
nication with man, and render them the objects, individ->
ually, of his moral sensibilities. And . the parallelism
between the intdltctucd and the moral difference be-
tween man and the brute ' holds entirje. The dog and
the elephant will do any thing that comes within the
range of association of ideas; or of the simplest con-
nections of cause and effect: — ^but not more. And, in
like manner, are they open to the keenest emotions of
gratitude, shame, revenge. Yet do we soon touch the
boundary of their moral capacities. The elephant has
bis direct erootbns, and is retentive of them; but he
does not abstract the quality which rhas so strongly af-*

73

fected him from the act or person to which it belongs:
—he is conscious, of that difference in temper which
distinguishes one of his keepers from another, .and treats
them both accordingly; but he forms no separate idea
of goodness and malignity; much , less compares such
abstracted ideas with his own correlative emotions; and
therefore he digests no complex notion of virtue and
of vice. As the inevitable consequence of this defi-
ciency of faculty, neither the dog nor the elephant cog-
itates upon his own dispositions, or personal character;
or ever institutes a mental comparison between bis own
behavior or habitual temper, and . any such notion of a
moral quality. Therefore, neither dog nor elephant
condemns of dislikes himself; much less conceives the
abstract idea of a better disposition as an object of de*
sire: and, therefore, never attempts the work of self-
education, by repressing ill feelings, and favoring the
better.

Accordingly, a self-originatfed reformation of manners
is never looked for from the brute. He may indeed
be amended in his dispositions by external treaimmi;
— ^he may become, more ox Jess bland, or tractable, in -#

consequence of changes in his cotistitution pr diet; but
he never changes in consequence of a mental process,
bringing two abstract qualities into comparison, and al-
> lowing the one to be chosen and followed, > while the
other is hated and avoided .~^If it be asked, on what
ground we infer these deficiencies of internal structure
m the brute mind; we reply, <hat the internal defect may |

' ■ '3'

feirly be implied fron^the absence of the proper out*

ward results of the supposed faculty. In iblldwing l!

7 ;i

I I

IK?

m

si

I

•■•k

74

^en the most sagacbus animal through his movements
io connection with new and artificial occasions, we
catch him at fault, precisely for the want of the power
of abstraction: the internal structure, though reconditey
is as good as laid bar^ in such instances; and we cease
to wonder, that a beirtg so deficient should not provide
for his welfare by artificial means.

And the very same deficiency necessitates his moral
condition; and (knowing it) though we feel complacency
or displacency towards the dog or the elephant, accord-
ing to his dispositions, we neither assign to him the
praise of virtue, in the one case, nor impute to him the
blame of vice, in the other. The animal that does not
observe proportions, nor use instruments, nor construct
machines, does not, for the same reason, turn or re-
model his own character; — does, not, iri any degree, edu-
cate himself. Virtue, vice, praise, blame, law, govern-
ment, retribution, are proper conditions of the existence
of a being who, by his use of arbitrary signs, by his
employment of complicated m^eans, and, by his conver-
sions of tbe powers of nature to his particular ' advan-
tage, makes if evident that he possesses a. faculty which,
in connection with his moral sensibiiitieSf renders vir-
tue, vice, praise, blame, law, government, retribution,
the true correlatives of his nature.

The sophism, which would sever virtue, vice, praise,
bhme, law, government, retribution, from the human
nature, contains an absurdity of precisely the same de-
gree as must belong to an argument that would attach
these conditions to the brute. It were a whim of the
same order, to look for arts and accomplishments

76

among tigers, kites, sharks, as nof to look for tfaem
among men; and it is nonsense of the same magnitudei
to deny that thp being who builds, plants, writes, and
calculates, cannot work upon his. own dispositions,
or, in other words, is not blame^worthy; as to affirm
that tigers, kites, and sharks, might, if they so plead-
ed, convert their natures, and become more amiable,
and less rapacious, than hitherto they have shewn them-
selves. While instituting a physical comparison of this
sort, in what light, we may ask, appears that abs|tract
doctrine which would measure men and worms by thp
samq standard? we may surely say, that, though affirm**
ed to be demonstrably certain as an oAstractionj it is a
nullity when brpught into contact with the real world.
The demonstrations of mathematical science, when
applied either to earth or heaven, fit all things, and cor-
respond to all;-»-the one class of truths, works glibly
with the other; and we confess, with an emotion of de-
light, the presence of that harmony, which is the test
of universal truth.* "Buty^hen metaphysical abstrac-
tions, of a certain order, are attempted to be dove-
tailed upon the actual constitution of nature, the one
set of principles calls the other fool, and both utterly
refuse to coalesce.

SECTION V.

The conjunction of die higher elements of intel-
lectual and moral being with the common ingredients of

• See note Z. • "

'

76

animal life, is beautifully developed to the eye that,
with philosophical attention, observes the growth and
expansion of the human mind from infancy to man-
hood. Nature, in preparing to bring upon the theatre
of the world so noble an agent as man, steps back,
that she may take the bolder leap, and reach a higher
stage. Man, throughout the period of bis infancy, is,
as an agentj below zero. Though launched as a sep-
arate being in the world, he is still an embryo^ and
exists only within the coil of maternal vigilance. It
cannot be doubted that the perceptions of the human
infant are more confused and illusory than those of the
young of animals; and probably amount to nothing
more (during the first six or eight weeks) than vague
sensations, conveying no knowledge of the external
world. His instincts also are few, and less determinate
than those of other new-born animals; and his muscu-
lar power, far from being commensurate with his weight
and bulk, is a mere element of action, which remains
yet to be developed. But the developement of this
necessary power commences at once; and seems to be
effected by the constitution of an immediate and inva-
riable connection between the muscular excitability and
every sensation that efiects the conscious principle,
whether arising from internal organs, or from impres-
sions on the senses. The babe is, while waking, a
machine of perpetual movement, in a greater or less
degree; and it is not difficult to trac6 the movement, in
each instance, to some passing sensation. To affirm
that such actions (if so they may be termed) have in
them the conditions of agency as described by meta-

JLJ

physicians, were most preposterous.-*-Tbere is no vott-
tiauy in any intelligible sense of the word; nothing biit
the simple fact of muscular contraction, as an immedi-
ate sequence upon sensation. This primary element
of agency holds a continued, but diminishing, force, to
the latest period, and when other elements take the lead;
flnd it maintains the animal activity in a way that might
be compared to the use of a fly-wheel in a machine.
Thus at once are the muscles brought into play, exer-
cised, and strengthened, and taught to obey instantane-
ously the mind. The strivings of the arras and legs,
the turning of the head, the cries, the smiles, give to
the little scholar his lesson, until fatigue prevails; and
all the forces of the system are sent in upon the invol-
untary muscles and the secreting organs.*

The distinction commonly made between voluntary
and involuntary muscular action, is clearly founded
upon a r^al difference. But when this physiological
distinction is conjoined with tlie metaphysical descrip-
tion of volition, as a mental process, consisting of suc-
cessive parts, it gives rise to a false supposition; and
suggests the belief that all movements hot involuntary,
are effects of rapidly conducted deliberations and de-
terminations, are orders in council. That complex
process which, even in the adidt^ takes place only on
special occasions, when antagonist motives are in con-
flict — ^as when prudential or moral considerations are
Wrestlmg With desires, is assumed as the model (it large
of all the acts of the mind. But if we fix an attea-

* See note A A.

♦7

f

78

tire eye upon the preparation which nature is making
in the first months of life for bringing the machine into
fiill play, we shall discern no evidence whatever of any
such deliberative operation; and, on the contrary, shaH
be led to think that the main« business of infancy is the
formation and cultivation of that habit of the animal
system which places its movements in immediate con^
tact with the sensations and emotions df the mind. This
habit (to the formation of which the first two years of
life are allotted) is the broad foundation of agency,
upon which is slowly to be reared the secondary habits,
which may at length become principal and predom-
inant.'

At a very early period the agency of the infant is
enriched and extended by the developement of the two
correlative emotions, which, in their multiform combi-
nations, are afterwards to constitute the moral life.
Nature is eminently conservative in all her operatbns;
and, in the instance of the human infant, is seen to
make timely provision for its safety and comfort, in a
double method. As soon as (indicated by the intelli-
gent movement of the eye) external objects are dis^
cemed as jiicA, — as soon as the perceptions of touch
and sight are well combined, 2j\d persons distinguished,
evidence also is given that the sensation of animal en-
joyment, and the elementary delectations of the senses
of sight and hearing, pass out— or shall we say cluster
— around that familiar object, and concomitant of all
pleasure — ^the mother; and awaken an emotion, not to
be analysed, of complacency, which, as afterward tu-
tored and informed, assumes the name of love, and is

79

die primary constituent of the moral life. It need not
be said in what way the developement of this emotion
secures the wellbeing of the infant, so far as its well-
being depends upon maternal vigilance.

But this single conservative means does not ade-
quately meet all the occasions that arise in this world
of perils. It is a universal truth, affirmed by the ele-
gant Greek, that nature has given weapons to all her
children; —

And he might have added— rto the human infant smile$
and cries. Not merely are pains and uneasiness in-
stantly and involuntarily made known by one of the
most awakening and disturbing of all sounds, but an
emotion is engendered which is the antagonist of the
one already mentioned, and which, like that, (though
at a much latter era)* attaches itself to particular exter-
nal objects; and when so attached, is called resentment.
This feeling, whatever ill consequences may result from
its excess, is manifestly a conservative element of life;
and actually operates to secure the habitual watchful-
ness of the nurse or mother, who is fain to prevent or
divert its excesses. The intelligent mother (or which
is the same thing) the affectionate and instinctively
sage mother, uses her skill incessantly, as manager of
the two elementary and antagonist principles of the
moral life; and, by avoiding, as far as possible, to excite

* See no|e B B.

^ I

80

die irascible emotioiii and by giving the fullest play to
tbe loving principle, she strengthens the latter by all
the force of habit, and deprives tbe former of the cor-
responding advantage. Thus the ends of nature are
secured; though one of her means of preservation is
superseded, or is con6ned within the narrowest limits*
That developement of the reasoning faculty, and that
power of complex thought, which are tbe grounds of
intelligent and responsible agency, are not apparently
developed, even in the lowest degree, until some time
after the habits both of the animal and the moral life
have become firmly settled.

Mobility, elasticity, promptitude, as the conditions of
muscular action, and the custom of the mental opera-
tions, get tbe start of the deliberative faculties; and so
possess themselves by usage of the physical and intel*
lectual being, that they hold through life their priority;
and, whatever power reason may at length acquire, man
acts ten thousand times in the . simple, elementary, or
spontaneous manner which he learns in infancy, for
once that he acts in the manner which metaphysicians
describe when they analyse the process of volition.*

It is not until the power of locomotion has put the
little pupil of nature in trust, to a certain extent, with
his own preservation, and when, as its consequence, he
IS brought hourly into new circumstances, that the first un-
questionable developement of reason may be observed.
By this time usual sequences of events begin to fix
themselves connectively in the memory, and give birth

* See note C C.

81

to the expectation of like results from like antecedents.
Then follows (aided b]r the imitative principle, to a
greater extent than perhaps we imagine) the employ*
ment of means for the attainment of an end: — and the
occasions which give exercise to this incipient work of
reason are presenting themselves every moment. About
the same era, the growing use of language, and espe*
cially of its adjectives, generates and favors the pro-
cess of abstraction; and the sounds goody nice, pleasant,
sweety finey Ughty darky 'white, red, green, bluey hardy
softy high, tow, &c. so fix themselves in the memory
in connection with qualities, as to admit of sgunction
from their concretes; and are all, with many others,
very soon actually employed by the tiny metaphysician,
in a manner which makes it unquestionable that the
mental machine iis fast getting all its wheels, one after
another, into movement.*

It would be curious and entertaining, if not instruc-
tive, to trace, by a serieis of exact observations, the
influence of language (and other signs) in elicitiug or
hastening that last expansion of the mind, which im-
parts to it a deliberative power; or which constitutes
man a voluntary agent in the higher sense of the term;
and which, in its matured state, carries him to an im-
measurable distance beyond the inferior species of sen-
tient beings. Daily, hourly, occasions arise in that
world of commencements^— the nursery, whereon the
hasty strides of desire are arrested by maternal vigi^
lance, and other motives placed before the mind; and

* See note D D. '

82

antagonist considerations urged upon its attention. Here
begins the process of complex volition:— at the mo-
ment of its commencement the beidg sets foot upon a
course that has no limit, is translated from the lower
world of animal life, into the higher sphere of rational
and moral existence; — is introduced to the community
of responsible agents; and takes up his heirship of an
interminable destiny.

Language is the instrument employed in awakening
this hitherto dormant faculty. But when once aroused,
and in some degree strengthened by use, the law of
association, (or .suggestion) also calls it into exercise;
and continues through life to do so; except in instances
in which such associations are obliterated, or supersed-
ed by long habits of vicious indulgence. The condi-
tion of the accustomed sensualist is, in the view of sci-
ence, a true infancy of the mind. Many accidents,
also, bring such of the desires as are purely sensual or
selfish into opposition, rendering the gratification of the
one incompatible with that of the othen — the two stand
in conflict for a moment or more: and whether the final
decision be better or worse, the mind is by the mere
contestation exercising its faculty of complex thought;
and not improbably admits, during the moments of
hesitation, many other "considerations of a prudential
or moral kind, which, even if they do not prevail,
enlarge the power of mental comprehension and
comparison.* >

From this time forward (and according to the excel-
lence or deficiency of the moral education he receives,)

• See note E E.

83

die human infant acts in a considerable proportion oi
instances deliberatively. As a consequence of this
new mode of agency, the association or suggestion of
ideas becomes so modified (especially where education
does its work efficiently,) as that it obeys, to a great
extent, the law of reed or rational connection, in the
place of that of mere juxta-position; and brings for-
ward, like a faithful and mtelligent minister, those con-
siderations or emotions which properly belong to the
immediate occasion. This expansion of the mind makes
itself apparent, though somewhat later, by the devel-
opement of the inventive faculty; and the little mechan-
ism, soon after the time when he has taken rank among
responsible agents, is seen, by the exercise of the very
same faculties of abstraction and of complex thought,
to form conceptions of an end or design, and to select,
from among the stores of suggestion, the fittest means
for its attainment. These nearly simultaneous pheno-
mena deserve especial attention, as they illustrate each
other; and, if duly considered in conjunction, would
dissipate much of the obscurity which metaphysical sci-
ence has shed over the physiology of man.

We should here notice that change in the sentiments
of those around it, which insensibly accompanies the
developement, as already described, of the infant mind*
Even before it has taken place, the infant has made
himself the object of fondness and complacency, or of
displacency, m various degrees, according to his per-
manent dispositions or individual character; and, before
be is blamed or applauded^ is loved, more or less, not
only with a love of general benevolence, and not only

.. I

^.

84

with the instinctive parental yearning of the heart; but
with a specific feeling which (allowing always for the
susceptibility of the subfect of it) is related to the qual-
ities of the object as directly and infallibly, as the mer-
cury of the thermometer is related to the temperature
about it. It is of no avail for metaphysicians to de-
monstrate that such correlative fueling s are unreasona-
ble, unjust, and absurd: the physiologist Jinds them an
inseparable and universal ingredient of human nature;
and thinks himself entitled to presume that they are
founded in the reason of things, even though he should
not be able to demonstrate so much; and, at all events,
he clearly discerns that these involuntary emotions are
the great conservative principles of the moral world,
and could not be obliterated without reducing that world
to horrible confusion. But happily the]:e is no danger
of any such prevalence of sophistical philosophy as
should unhinge the course of nature. A very few
minds excepted, and these already diseased — it will re-
main true, that gentleness, meekness, candor, kindness,
will excitfc affection; while irascibility, sullenness, ob-
stmacy, and malignant acerbity, will as certainly draw
towards the subject of them dislike and repugnance.

This happens, we say, before the era of the unques-
tionable developement of the power of self-govern-
ment, and before the child is properly deemed praise-
worthy or blamable, or amenable to law. But after
this important change has manifesdy taken place, a cor-
responding change is insensibly effected in the conduct
and sentiments of those around him.

85

In the first place, his particular actions are approved
or blamed, on the tacit principle that, now, by the ex-
pansion of his faculties, it has become the la^ of his
mental operations, that, in the moment of action, the
several antagonist motives that should influence action,
were, with more or less distinctness, prese^ited to the
mind, in consequence of previously formed associations.
The agent, therefore, is deemed to have made his
choice, for the better or the worse, from among alter-
natives; and it were to degrade him from the rank to
which he has attained, to suppose that, like the inferior
orders of the animal world, he did but obey a single
imjndse, or sensation.

This is not all: — the agent is supposed to have made
his choice, for the better or the worse, in this particular
instance, according to his habitual dispositions; and the
action is approved or blamed^ not only as an insulated
fact, but as an indication of character. And then, again,
this character is the object, not only of complacency or
of displacency, but of approval or of blc^me. The
character is approved or blamed on the very same
tacit principle (differently applied, and further extend-
ed) which is the ground of the approval or blame of
particular actions, namely, that the now-expanded fac-
ulty of the agent enables him, at once, to form abstract
notions of moral qualities-^to compare such notions
with the sentiments they excite in his own mind, and in
the minds of others-r— to institute cpmparbons between
his own dispositions and the dispositions which he ad-
mires or condemns in others; and, finally, to make his
dispositbns the subject of a process of self-education*

8

^

'jprr:. " . *... r

86

That 80 mudi as this is supposed, and is presamed
to be true, by mankiod generally, and is establbhed bj
universal experience, is shewn by the threefold treat*
ment that is adopted with the. view of amending th^
conduct and dispositions, both of children and adults*
Firsty rewards and punishments are employed for in*
suring right determinations in particular instances of
conduct. This is done on the strength of the well-
known fact, that the law of association will, on the next
occasion, present to the mind of the agent the consid*
eration of good or ill consequence to result to himself,
as the fruit of his behavior; and this consideration may
actually avail (as often in fact it does) to counteract the
most vivid selfish desires. Secondly ^ it is usual to
attempt to amend the dispositions and the character hj^
an external management of the exciting causes of the
various emotions, and passions, and appetites. This
managem>ent constitutes a great and most important part
of the business of education; and should also receive
much more attention than hitherto it has done, from
legislators, and public instructors, and guardians of the
people.*

These two methods are applicable, as we have be-
fore said, in an inferior degree, even to animals-— to the
horse, the dog, the elephant. But the third method
of treatment is exclusively proper to human nature;
and its propriety rests upon the fact,, that the human
mind includes an element of action not granted to the
brute. It is, we say,, common to endeavor to awaken

* See note F F.

^

87

in tbe mind the desire of amending or reforming itself-^
that is, its habits and settled dispositions. This attempt >|
<iiflfers from the second method, or the management of j
dispositions by external means; and it proceeds upon <
the known and familiar fact, that an introverted effi)rt i
of the mind does actually, and often, and under a great
variety of circumstances, take place. We are not ob- i
liged to shew how these facts consist with certain me*
taphysical prmcf|)le8, or with certain theological doc-
trines: it h enough that we know them to be recorded,
jfasHm, on all pages of the history of man; and that
they belong to his physiology. By all means, let the
mental process be aaalysed, if it be possible to do so;
but, if not, it nevertheless stands among things known
and acknowledged by all mankind.^

It is^ we say, knotvn to be the usage of the human
mind, to make its own acts and dispositions the subject
of its meditations, and that these meditations enkindle
emotions of the same kind with those excited by the
view of similar acts and dispositions in other men— and
that to these generic emotions is superadded a specific
feeling, more intense than the first, and which borrows
its force from the principle of self-loye, and takes its
quality from that of the contemplated act or disposition,
becoming either complacent or displacent: in the latter
case bringing with it emotions of shame, fear, and re*
morse. It is, moreover, proper to the human mind to
conceive abstractedly of a mode of action, or a style of
character, better than its <n6n; and to assume that con-
ceptiim as a permanent object of desire. In conne*

* See note GO.

^m^M

»-.

88

quence of such a desire, a tendency towards it, mor6
or less strong and uniform, takes place. In this man-
ner, amendments, reformations, and even complete rev-
olutions of character, are every day occurring in the
humian system. It should here be stated, that those
deteriorations of character, v^hich are also continually
going on in the same system, do not come about by a
corresponding process of the mind, or as the result of
a conception of vicious qualities, and a consequent pur-
suit of them; but arise simply from the unresisted pro-
gress of sensual or malignant passions, which, by indul-
gence, become at length paramount habits.

If it were demanded to analyse more strictly the first
movements of this mental process of self-education, it
would seem the most auspicious method to turn from
the moral operation, which has been enveloped in mys-
tifications; and to examine the corresponding intellec-
tual operation, wherein the mind holds to a certain ab-
stract quality, pursues it, notwithstanding a thousand
disturbing causes, through a long and intricate series of
relations, and actually attains its uhimate conception* It
is in such operations that the human mind displays its
vast superiority to the most sagacious of the brute
tribes, and proves that it can soar with a steady wing
far above the region of mere animal impulses, of acci-
dental associations, and of all determining causes, ex-
cept such as lead it toward the high ground of unchang-
ing Truth. Now this intellectual operation runs par-
allel with the moral operation of self-education; and the
one may be taken to illustrate or explain the otber.^

« See note H H.

89

Whether this distinguishing faculty which divides
man from his fellow-sentient beings by an immense in-
terval, must be regarded as inscrutable— like the ulti-
mate properties of matter; or whether (as is probable)
it admits of being separated into its components, is not
highly important^ even to physiology; and is scarcely,
in the remotest manner, significant to morals or religion;
since the fact of its existence is familiarly known; and
this fact is enough for all practical purposes. The sim-
pleand intelligible interests of ethics and theology have
no more connection with such a scientific analysis, than
have the labprs of the mechanician with an explanation
(could it be given) of the law of gravity.

It can hardly be necessary to state the. well-known
fact, that this power of introverted action, which, by
emphasis, may be termed, the excellence of human na-
ture, is liable to lie absolutely dormant, for want of ex-
citement;— just as the fellow-faculty of abstraction also
lies dormant, or nearly so, among barbar<5us tribes; and,
moreover, that it is exposed to much damage, and may
at length be quite enfeebled, by a course of vicious in-
dulgences. Man, we say, may either lie inert, beneath
the level of his piroper destiny; or, which is a more
melancholy case, he may fall below that level: he may
revert to the moral imbecility of infancy; he may sink
into an abyss, where he grovels hopelessly, and is less
estimable than the brute; nay, must be content to share
sentiments of loathing with the hog, or the hyaena. Sad
condition this of necessity! — ^miserable ruin and decay
of the noblest structure!*

* See note I I.

•8

. JJ..^- _ . 1^4 1 -- I.

do

It should also be remembered, that, apart from any
theological principles, if the actual condition of human
nature be contemplated purely as a matter of physical
science, it must be admitted to have sustained, from
whatever cause, a universal damage, or shock; inas«
much as its higher faculties do not, like the faculties of
the inferior classes, work invariably, or work' auspicious-
ly; but are often, and in a vast proportion of instanceSf
overborne, defeated, and destroyed; or they lie absp«
lutely dormant; while, in no instances^ do they take that
full, free, and perfect course, which is abstractedly
proper to them. We may, if we please, compare this
physical fact with certain principles of theology, and
may derive from the comparison a confirmation of our
religious belief. But this is a matter not pertinent to
our immediate purpose.

And now, . if we must indeed bring those ill-chosen
and ill-fated words, liberty and necessity^ to bear upon
the physiology of the sentient world, all that is proper
to be said may be comprised in a very few words. — It
is manifest, then, that in passing on from mechanical
and chemical to animal agencies, we are not passing
from infallible to faUible sequences, nor from causation
to contingency, nor from necessity to liberty (as the op-
posite of necessity.) The transition is of altogether
another sort; namely, from a less complex system of
causation, to one that is more so. But the one system
is as truly causal as the other,-— -or else neither is
at all so: both are necessary, or neither is necessary;
both contingent or neither. If the one system may be
foreknown, so may the other — or neither? — ^if there be

>

91

<my fortuity in the universe, the universe is a chaotic
mass of fortuities. Nevertheless, the distinction of mare
or less complex, is an important one. The course of a
bullet propelled by gunpowder from a musket, may
readily, and with great. precision, be calculated, for it
is determined by a few known powers and laws. And
60 is the course of a bullet that is violently shaken in a
canister: indeed, b this instance, there is a power or
two the less to be included in the calculation. But,
who would attempt to forecast the thousand successive
reverberations of the ball from the sides of the canister,
even though it were agitated in the most exact and reg-
ular manner; much less if it were shaken by the hand?
Yet is that track, though not to be calculated by hiiman
faculties^ as strictly the consequence of the combined
laws of impulse and gravitation, as is the course of a
bullet shot from a gun; and if the one may be calcu-
lated by human intelligence, the other might also be
foreknown by super-human faculties. Every one is
aware that the application of the word chance to the
course of the ball in^ the canister, is a mere colloquial
impropriety.

The complexity of causes is vastly increased when
we turn to the animal world; — ^so increased, that all
human, calculation is utterly set at defiance. Even if
we knew all the external circumstances of an animal,
at a, given moment, and all hiis sensations of a physical
kind, we could not know the succession of mental states
which each moment combines itself with the passing
impressions and desires: nor, if we did know this also,
could we calculate those combinations. We therefore

^

92

can merely forecast probabilities, in regard to the
movements of animals; but can never set a foot upon
the solid ground of certainty. A calculation of causes
sb many and so intricate, must be assigned to an intel-
ligence immensely greater than that of man. Every
new power that is admitted into a complex machinery,
tends, of course, to multiply the variations of its move-
ments; and so to render a calculation of those move-
ments more voluminous or difficult; yet not to render
them at all less causal, or more fortuitous.

But this general principle is open to an important
exception; — ^to wit, if the new and superadded power
be of a paramount or commanding sort, it will simplify
the movements, rather than complicate them, and bring
them more within the range of calculation: instances
may easily be adduced in which the agencies of higher
and more complex natures are far more simple and
invariable tlian those of inferior beings. An example
or two will illustrate this statement. — The mental mai-
chinery of the adult contains more movements, la more
complex, than that of the infant: new faculties have
come into play; the materials of intellectual action have
been vastly augmented; and many susceptibilities have
been quickened, which are dormant or non-existent in the
infant. But the mere combination of internal and external
impressions renders the agency of the infant absolutely
incalculable (to the human mind;) whereas the agency
of the adult, though open to a hundred times more in-
fluences, is often simplified by the predominance of
some one or two of its ' powers. As, for instance, a
vehement animal desire, or a ruling mental passbn, long

93

indulged, sets through the soul like an impetuous cur*
rent, and gives a high degree of uniformity to the con-
duct. Or a similar uniformity and simplification may
result from the predominance of virtuous emotions. Or,
again — and this is an instance of tlie most significance
---that very expansion of the intellectual faculties which
imparts the greatest organic complexity to the machine,
does, at the same time, when it reaches its perfection^
restore (if we may so speak) to the operations of the
mind the most absolute simplicity. Truth is one; and
it is the glory and perfection of the intellectual nature
to perceive that oneness: and in proportion as truth is
so perceived, and embraced, and delighted in, the
agency of the being will become more simple, and caU
cuhble^ and will lose its character of variableness. The
same is true of the perfection of moral faculties; and it
may, as a general principle, be affirmed, that perfectioDi
in all orders, and of all kinds, tends, with equal steps,
towards simplicity, uniformity, and constancy.

And yet what, it may be asked, is gained by apply-
ing to this simplicity or constancy, which is the char-*
acter of perfection, the term necessity? There is a
sense, unquestionably, in which it may be so applied;
but it must be called one of the most infelicitous, and
ili'Omened of all pedantic perversions so to dor We
gain, it is true, the poetical conception of an awful, in-
visible goddess, stern in feature, mflexible in temper,
and implacably despotic, who rules the universe, and
who vouchsafes no other reply to supplicants, than the
monotonous response — "Whatever is, must be." Apart
from this poetry of metaphysics, nothing b more simple

04

dma the eertnim conneeHan between perfect ioteBigeiice^
and the perception of a trudi presented to it. Who
would wish to be endowed with a freedom from this
sort of necessi^? To whom is this kind of despotism
galling, or intolerable? To none, surety, but to mad-
men and fools. Nor can any but the debauched covet
that odier species of liberty which excuses from the
moral necessity of takbg always the road of virtue.
To be bound by this necesaUy is die true liberty; and,
in fact, as we approach to the b^h ground of intellec-
tual and moral perfection, liberty and necessity merge
m one and the same condition; and he is the most nobly
free, whose reason and whose volitions are the most
invariable and uniform; or, to use an improper tenn,
are the most imperatively necessary.

Whoever revolts from thl$ unidn, and would court
rather, a mode of agency as far removed as possible

from certainty, and from calculable sequency an

agency in this improper sense frecj should look for it,
not in the heavens, but upon earth, and among the most
bfirm of its tribes. He should put off the man, and
revert to infancy; and should plunge among the eddies
of ignorance and folly. There he will find a liberty to
follow the ten thousand paths of error, instead of the
one path of truth; and there he may surrender himself
to a course so capricious, so broken, and so tortuous,
that his wanderings must defy the power of any intelli-
gence short of the Supreme, to calculate their termina*
tions.

Nothing, one would think, ought to be widied for by
tny order of beings, but that its mechanism should be

»6

so constructed as to secure (in the osdbaij coarse of
thbgs) its welfare. It is by such a well-ordered con*
struction of parts and functions, diat the preservation
and reproduction of the animal tribes are actually se-
cured: their machinery, while it obeys the great laws
of matter and mind, accomplishes the beneficent inten-
tion of the Creator; and each individual enjoys his hour
of physical good. The well-being of man is in the
same manner provided for, in the constitution of his
more complex nature; and so long as all the parts of
this constitution perform tlieir functions, all is welL
Damage and ruin arise from the inaction or decay of
some of the parts. The actuul existence of this damn
age is precisely that point of physical science at which
it is intersected by theology ^ and where the former must
ask light and aid from the latter.

For a moment, let it be inquired, what advantage a
sen^tient and intelligent being could derive from an abso*
lute emancipation from causation, or from &e certain
sequency of effects? The very notion of a real contin-
gency, in this sense, \s madmtssible in philosophy. But
let it be granted as a thing conceivable. Ought not,
then, this freedom from causation to be termed rather a
necessity of the most dire and formidable sort? and he
whose prerogative it should be, would become an ob-
ject of as much pity as the wretch who lives in the
grasp and keeping of a madman. . This power or pre-
rogative of contingency, by the hypothesis^ obeys no
motive; adheres to no connection of truth with truth; is
not to be calculated upon, or foreknown; is not govern-
ed by reladonship to any actoal existence, or abstract

96

principle. But it is manifest that, to an intelligent be-
ing, whose welfare b committed to himself, and who
provides for that welfare iy calculating upon the knoum
order of nature^ the liability to contingency, whether in
the external or internal system, must be a pure curse,
by deranging every provision, and thwarting every pur-
pose. A liability to sudden frenzy, would not be at all
more fearful than the liability to sudden contingency.
The unhappy being, so privileged to live beyond the
circle of nature, and so distinguished as an outlaw from
the orderly system of causation, would be justified in
making for himself such an apology as this: — ^"When-
ever, and as long as my conduct is governed by reasons
and motives, I cheerfully consent to be treated as a
responsible agent; and am willing to receive the due
consequences of my actions. But not so in those dark
moments when the fit of contingency (my fatal glory)
comes upon me:— '•then, and in those portentous mo^
ments, I am no longer master of my course; but am
hurried hither and thither, by a power in the last degree
capricious, whose freakish movements neither men nor
angels, nor the Omniscient himself, can foresee. Fain
would I surrender this fatal freedom, and take my place
among those who enjoy the benefits of the laws of na-
ture and reason; but it is the unalienable condition of
my existence to be governed by a power more stem
and inexorable than Fate herself, — ^Alas! Contingency
IS mistress of tny destinies.''

If it be no excellence, no advantage, to be liable to
contingency, in the matter of volition, it may, on the
othet side, be asked, if inteUigent agents are deprived

97

of any conceivable advantage, or are necessitated in the
sense of confinement or re$traintj by being placed in a
state of inseparable connection with a settled order of
events in the worlds of n^atter and mind? — The reply
of common sense is, that this connection is the very
ground of their safety and happiness; and that to dis-
solve it, were to render reason useless, and ruin inev-
itable. And if common sense thus responds to the
question, physical science corroborates the same con-
clusion, by developing in detail those occult corres-
pondences between the structure of animals and the
great laws — mechanical and chemical — of the material
world, which give so much evidence at once of the
wisdom and beneficence of the Creator.*

But the fatalist (we mean the philosophical fatalist)
and his opponent also — ^the advocate of contingent free
will, concur in affirming that this alleged connection
of the intellectual and moral system with the fixed laws
of the worlds of mind and matter, actually removes
from virtue and vice all their substance, and renders
these terms the representatives of a mere illusion.
**Where there is tausation,^^ says the philosophic de-
fender of Armiriian theology, "there can be neither
praise nor blame, virtue nor vice. — But virtue aind vice
mtut be affirmed, and therefore human volition is free
from causation." — "Where there b causation^^^ says the
philosophic fatalist,f "there is neither praise nor blame,
neither virtue nor vice. But there is causation in hu-'

• See note K K. *

t See Diderot, as quoted above, p# 91.

9

98

man volitions; and therefore virtue and vice are emp^
names." — ^Thus reason the extreme parties in this
controversy.

Now, the physiologist might well content himself
with spurning, unrefuted, the premises and conclusions
of both parties. It is enough for him that he finds,
belonging to human nature — human nature as compared
with that of inferior classes — certain emotions, and modes
of feeling and acting, which, as they are specific and
broadly distinguished from all others, must not be con-
founded, or lost sight of; and must therefore have names
to themselves; and if the words virtue, goodness, merit,
&c. are taken from his nomenclature, he must instantly
invent new terms to stand in their places; but as well
retain the old ones. Moreover, he finds that the quali-
ties so designated subserve the most important and in-
dispensable purposes in the constitution of the human
system; and he would therefore, without infringing upon
the duties of either moralist or theologian, reject, as a
pestilent sophiiyn, aqy theory which should tend to
lessen the intensity of such salutary powers.

But the philosQphical fatalist might be asked — ^If vir-*
tue and vice are not virtue and vice, what are they?
He replies— "Virtue \s good fortune; vice, badfortune.^
We will then apply this method of resolving an illusory,
notion into its proper nihility, to another case of a par-
allel kind; and then judge of its soundness. — ^While
inteQt upon another object, the attention of Newton
was suddenly attracted by a phenomenon which led him
at length to the principle of the different refrangibility
of the several elements of light. This was good fortune;

99

but he laboriously pursued the causal suggestion; and
after a long course of experiments and calculations,
gave to the world the true science of optics. And this
ultimate success, also, may be called good fortune. '
For must we not admit the original vastness of his un-
derstanding to have been good fortune; and was not
that mental character, or intellectual temper, good for-
tune, which made the attainment of scientific truth the
paramount desire of his nature; and were not his exter-
nal advantages of leisure and education also good for-
tune? and so was that physical wellbeing which allowed
him to carry on his researches, until they reached their
happy issue*

Now, if the philosophic fatalist means no more by
bis queer use of the term goodfortune^ in such an
instance, than, by a pious conceit, to preach us a lesson
in theology; and by a quirk to induce us, unawares, to
trace "every good gift, and every perfect gift" to Him
from whom all excellence descends, we can make no
objection to his intention; but must protest against the
method he adopts, which is puerile, affected, and cir-
cuitous.

But the sophist in question would, we are sure,
indignantly spurn the imputation of couching a rdigiota
meaning under his quibble. Does he, then, intend by-
it to hide from the notice of mankind all those mental
qualities^ — all that mtelligence and perspicacity, and that
activity, constancy, fortitude, and consistency, which
mtervened, at cauaesj between the first fortunate hint,
and the ultimate establishment of the theory of light
and colors? By applying the term good fortune^ bodi

100

V

to the accidental suggestion^ and to the laborious work'-
ings of the mind upon it, does he wish .to insinuate that
the difference between the one and the other is a mere
nothing— a shade, which should be disresmrded? In this
case we ask why, or for what imaginable purpose,
should we so confound things immensely different, and
between which even the rudest mind discerns an infinite
disparity? We beg leave of the sophist to adhere to
the usages of common sense, and shall always, in future^
as heretofore, call intelligence intelligence; labor labor;
and good luck good luck.

But further; if it were really conceivable that so
whimsical a use of the word good fortune should gain
general credit, so as at length to dismiss from the
recollections of men the difference between mere luck,
or the accidental possession of an advantage, and the
attainment of advantages by labor, skill, and perseve-*
ranee; then it would immediately operate (and especially
upon inferior minds) not merely to confound things dis-
tinguishable, but to destroy the very qualities that are
the objects of the distinction. The sophism, we say,
if really assented to, would debilitate those motives
which are the springs of action, and would lead nian-
kind b§ck from the state of civilisation wherein many
more advantages are received from labor tlian from
luck, to the savage state; wherein the few advan-
tages that are actually enjoyed spring more from luck
than from labor. But can any 4unh retrogressive
movement be the work of true philosophy? Far from
it! It is phibsophy that has led mankind forward from the
savage to the civilised condkioo; and whatever would ar*
rest him m his course, or beat him back, b not philosophy*

jii.-

lor

If, then, it be a pedantic whim, and a whim of mis-
i^hievous tendency, to apply both to an accidental benefit,
and to a benefit acquired after long and laborious efforts,
the same term — good fortune; it is also a pedantic and
a mischievous whim to call virtue good fortune; for, vir-
tue is not an accidental boon, thrown in a man's, path,
and with which he has nothing to do but to pick it up:
— ^it is the result of a long-continued and laborious pro^
oess, wherein the mind works upon and among its emo-
tions, its desires, and its propensities. But, then, the
pedantry in this caste cnxt^es with it a real and effica-
cious power of mischief; inasmuch as tlie difficulty of
. attaiqing virtue consists, greatly, in that very laxity of
:^irit which the sophism tends to increase; and, on the
other hand, it cherishes, favors, and enhances those
specific illusions which hover around all vicious habits
of the mind* — ^Vice, of every kind,, is, to the spiyit, an
inebriety y having both its season of delirium, and its
season of letha!rgy. Now, if the vicious subject b^
taught that his sensuality and his crimes are simply Ul
fortune, his delirium will be heightened by desperation;
and his lethargy deepened by the removal of all sense
of remorse. ,

This doctrine, then, of the philosophical fatalist,
which, if applied to the intellect, would lead mankind
to barbarism; does, by a parallel process, when applied
to the conscience, lead him into the abyss of, brutal
debauchery and of feroqity. Shall we then admit, or
shall we discard it?

*9

10^

SECTION ri.

It iio\f only remains-^nd this part of our task may
soon be dismissed — ^to consider the question of liberty
and necessity, as belonging to metaphysical science*

There lies before us a long series, or chain of prolate
spheroids, linked together by a copula, and marked ia
pairs, — a, h; d, i, &c. Now, a philosopher of a cer-
tain school comes up, and lectures upon the series in
the following manner:—-

"You have always seen these spheriods arranged in
this precise order; and your mind has acquired, as a
habit, the belief (a pardonable prejudice) that they are
inseparably or necessarily connected in this order, and
could exist in no other. And in consequence of this
habit, you have arbitrarily lettered them in pairs a, S,
&c., and furthermore have called a, cause, and 6, ef-
fect: and then have formed to your.self a certain ground-
less and inexplicable notion, to which you give the name
power; and you say that a has a power to produce h,
and so on. But all this is a tissue of illusions. You
really know nothing beyond the fact of the actual con-
junction, or juxta-position, or uniform sequency of a
and h; and your word power stands for nothing but an
abstraction, that has grown, we hardly know how, out
of this habit of your mind."

How satisfactory is this exposure of an old and firm
prejudice! Who shall dare in future to attach to the
words cause and effect any other sense than that of an
often-observed connection? Or who sKall venture, hence-
forward, to deduce an inference from the exploded

103

doctrme of causattoo, in favor of the etistenee of a first
cause, or creative power?

Nevertheless, unwillmg to part so easily with an
ancient belief, and so promptly to dissolve an inveterate
habit of the mind, we look again to the spheroids before,
us; turn them about^ examine them on all sides, and
endeavor, if possible, to discover if there be not a real^
as well/ as an accidental connection between a and b.
At length we find that same of them may be broken
open, and their contents exposed; and it appears, on
examiniag the interior of a pair, marked a and 6, or
cause and effeety that the spheroid a contains a series of
figures, as thus—

4+8X2— 6-f-2

Within the spheroid marked b is found another
series —

8X10+10-^10

Now, removing the spheroldial envelope, and retain-
ing only the contents and the copula^ a and b stand
thus—

4+8X2—6-5-2 =8xl0+10-M0

That is to say, we are simply presented with an equation;
or the same quantity described in two forms, and con-
nected by a sign which indicates their equivalencie, and
their indissolvhle connection; a connection, not indeed
oipower^ but of relation^ and a connection so absolute
and real, to receive a, and to reject b as its equivalent,
would be a conspicuous absurdity.

Encouraged by this mstance of success, we proceed,
with our analysis, and taking up at hazard, from dif-

104

fereot parts of the series, several pairs of spheroids/
we find that, in every instance in which, hj force or
patient assiduity, we can break the shell, the contents
oonsist of some such equation as was discovered in the
first. We have therefore, to a certain extent, refuted
our philosophic reprover, who told us that these con-
nected bodies were linked only by juxta-position; for
we have ascertained that some of them, at least^^ are
wedded by a real and indestructible relationship. But then
there remain (and it is no small number) tlie infran-
gible spheroids. What shall be said concerning them?
Nothing conclusive; but our philosopher is now deprived
absolutely of the force of his specious argument: for it
is not true, as he affirmed, that the connection of the
spheroids, was nothing but a sequency which might have
assumed any other order than the one it actually
observed. If, on the faith of his word, we had dis-
turbed the order, and then analysed them, nothing would
have appeared but confusion. And if, in regard to the
analysed bodies, he is free to surmise that they are not
linked by a real connection; we are equally frefe to sup-
pose that a true and abiding bond ties them one to the
other.

We are free to suppose this; — ^and should in fact use
our freedom so far as to entertain the hypothesis — an
hypothesis which can never be refuted, until all the
spheroids are actually analysed — ^that some of these that
defy our curiosity contain, like those we have opened,
equations; and that the residue are joined by an efficient
connection; or in other words, that a is 9i power j properly
so called; and that i is its efiect.

105

The reader who is familiar with the controversy oa
the relation of cause and effect, will readily rnake the
intended use of the above illusoratton. As the question
concerning human agency has been confused and em*
bsurassed by considering volition as one and the same
thing in all sentient beings, and in all instances; whereas
it differs by essential elements in different ca^es; so has
the question concerning causation been surrounded
with difficulties, by the common practice of allowing all
conjoined events, vulgarly designated as cause and effect,
to pass undistinguished under one and the same des-r
cription. The puerile sophism of Hume takes its
appearance of force from this confusion of things essen-
tiaUy different. It becomes, therefore, necessary to
distribute into classes the mass of things popularly
spoken of as cause and ef&ct.

Such ' constant connections, whether belonging to
space or time, may be arranged under three heads,
of which the First will comprise thbse that may be
analysed, iand which are found to resolve themselves
iato simple relations of equality, or proportion, or fit-
ness. ^

The Second comprehends those in which the pres-
ence of an efficient power must be confessed:

And the Third those which are inscrutable by the
human mind, and therefore ambiguous; and concerning
which a surmise only can be entertained, as to the na-
ture of the bond which unites them; but concerning
which, it may safely be presumed, that, if they could be
laid bare, they would resolve themselves irito connec-
tions, either of the first or of the second sort.

106

For the Fibst Class.— So many cubic feet of water
are raised, per mioutei from the deepest adit of a
mine, by a steam engine; and in popular language it is
usual to call the engine the cause, and the raised water
the efi^ct. But if, from this stupendous apparatus, are
deducted tuH> powers^ the one chemical, the other me-
chanical (presently to be spoken of) then the whole
vast system of contrivances resolves itself into a series
or apposition of relations of equality, proportion, or
equilibrium: and it is a proposition of precisely the
same kind to say —

4+8X3=36;

Or to affirm that the steam engine will raise so many
cubic feet of water every minute from the bottom of a
mine. Or if a complete description of a steam engine
were placed on on^ side of the sign of equivalence, and
the measure of water expressed on the other, the pre-
dicatioD implied would be infallible and invariable; and
to affirm of its two members, that they are connected
by mere constancy of occurrence, would be an absurdity
of the same sort, as to say, that 4+8X3 is connected
with 36 in no other way than by accidental juxta-
position. Heat and water, applied the one to the other,
combine; and water combined with heat becomes an
elastic vapor, occupying a space vastly greater than
before. Now, though the reason of this irresistible
combination has not hitherto been found, we are free to
suppose that it is the consequence of a relation of oc
cult form in the two elements; and the bypotbesb is
favored by all that is actuaUy knoiwn of the structure of

r"

^e material world* Meanwhile we assign this unlmowh
fact or hidden power, to our third chssj and after de*
ducting it, then resolve the complicated machinery d
the steam engine into an equilibrium of forces.

All the works of human ingenuity are resolvable into
cases of equilibrium, or equivalence: and, in like man-
ner, the functions of plants and animals, — ^their growth,
agencies, and decay, and, to a certain extent, the inter-
action of the elements^ are also to be resolved into
connections or relations of this first class. And if the
business of natural philosophy were to be described in
a single phrase, we should say that its office is, as the
interpreter of the creation, to exhibit or unfold physical
equations.

It is h/irdly needful to say that, in reference to this
first order of causes and efiects, the word liberty can
have no place whatevei^— can assume no shadow of
meaning. What idea can we affix to the proposition,
that, there is a freedom in the connection between twice
three and six? And if the sister term necessity may be
applied on occasions of this sort. It adds nothing to the
perspicuity of our notions. It is, we readily grant,
necessarily true that seven taken three times makes
twenty-one. But why should we not be content with
simply saying that it is certainly true; or, better still-
that it is true. All that the mmd can understand is
contained in the very modest expression which declares
that three times seven is twenty-one. And to talk about
necessity in such an instance, is as rsttional, as would be
the pomposity of affirming, that three times seven is im
mutably, and by the adamantine decree of eternal truth,
equal to twenty*one!

lOT \

i

\

108

TUs is an absurditj of one kkd: and the histoiy df
Ifae controirer^ would fumish a thousand instances of
such learned verbosi^* The opposite absurdity b that
of Hume and others, who, confoundiag causes and ef-
fects of all kinds, affirm of dU alike, that they are nothing
but often-observed sequences; whereas a large jlropor*
tion are inteUigible relatbos, which cannot be denied
or separated without a contradiction in terms.

It may seem superfluous to remind the reader^ that
all effects belonging to this first class are directly cog-
nisable by their relation to their causes. The intelligence
which knows the antecedent, knows also the consequent,
when that consequent is a correlative equality or pro-
portion.

II. In defining the Second Class of causes and
effects, or those wherein the presence of an efficient
power must be confessed, it casnot be thought necessary,
as a preliminary, either to insist upon the demonstra-
tion, a priori^ of the existence of a First Cause, or to
state the argument a posteriorL This great truth is
here assumed as unquesticMiably established by the two
methods, separately and conjointly. But it follows
from it, that the worlds of matter and mind, with all
their contrivances and forms, are effects of that First
Cause, and that this relationship is, ia the roost absolute
sense, real and indissoluble; nor even to be imagined
as broken, otherwise than by the annihilation of the
effect.

The doctrine of Hume and his followers, (and of
many of his opponents), Tbat we know, and can know
nothing of cause and effect, beyond the fact of invaiia-

109

ble sequency, ii, by a logical necessity, atheistical.*
That is to say, it has no meanings and can have no
appearance of truth, except on the assumption, that the
belief in a First Cause is incapable of proof. For if
diat belief is by any means established, the fact of effi-
cient causation is established with it; and it is no longer
true, that we know of no connection between cause and
effect beyond that of invariable sequency.f

Whence the human mind derives its notion of power,
might be shewn; but it can never be imagined that the
reason of the connection between power and its effect
can be exhibited. This were, indeed, to penetrate
beyond the deepest secrets of nature. Yet this con-
nection, though not to be analysed, must be affirmed to
be necessary, or, more properly, infallible: for to sup-
pose otherwise, would be only a circumlocutory denial
of tlie very existence of power. Power not productive
of its effect is not power, but is either inertness or
weakness. And again, the denial of liberty to power,
if liberty mt^^s freedom from restraint, would, for the
very same reason, be absurd; and thus, as we have
before observed, liberty and necessity merge, the one
in the other, when we approach the footstool of siipreme
excellence and perfection.

• Hume ("Treatise of Humoa Nature") gives his reBder free leave to
draw this inference, which be is too modest himself to name.

t Brown, while insisting upon the fact, that we can conceive of nothing
as coming between Almighty Power and the effect, loses sight of the ques-
ttoD, whether the human mind has no idea of connection beyond antecedence^
and sequence. It does, by its oioii poioeTf conceive of power as somethii^
more than the juzta-position of events.

10

lie

But If the word liberiy were to be taken in the vul*
gar sense of the words range or scope j it might then be
asked, What (with due reverence *) should be thought
of the liberty of the First Cause? We must approach
thb question from beneath. Now, if for a moment it
be assumed that j?oti;6r, in the highest sense of the word,
is the endowment of created minds, we can conceive
of it only as related to, Jirstj the actucd existences
known to that mind {its oum attribtUes included)^ and,
secondly^ to such possible existences as may lie within
its faculty of conception, and also within the circle of
its agency. And then, if that created mind be thought
of as (in its degree) wise and holy, every exercise of
its power will be determined necessarily, or, which is
a far better term, invariably, or certainly, in that one
manner which truth and goodness prescribe, whenever
Hther truth or goodness is interested, in the decision.

But something more than this may be conceived of;
and we think that the notion of stern fixedness, or inva-
riable sameness, which is apt to be conjoined in our
minds with the idea of unalterable wisdom and rectitudci
is happily dispelled when this something more is duly
taken into the accounts .A hundred or more angular
or curve lines, all of equal length, yet dissimilar y may
be drawn from the centre to the circumference of a
circle. Nor is it an irrational supposition, that a hundred
or more courses of conduct, dissimilar, yet equidistant

* A high disadvantage belongix^ (inevitably) to discossions of this order,
is, the implication of the Divine perfections with obscure qaestions. Every
sound mmd will take care to hold its religious sentiments safe from the inter*
fereoce of mere abstractions.

Ill

as paths from point to point, may present tbemsekes to
aa iotelligence; and that these hundred courses, though
ijl the hjfpotheiU they possess precisely equal recom-
mendations, both to the rational and moral faculties,
may be not only unlike in themselves, but may lead
the being that pursues them to vastly distant or opposite
points of his possible destiny.^

Now this supposed range, or scope, or liberty, if so
it must be called, removes the idea of unvarying uni-
formity from the notion of a high degree of wisdom
and goodness: it enlarges the conception of supernal
existence, and opens before the meditative mind an un-
bounded field of various opulence. And although, in
the case of created minds, this field is narrowed by the
limitation both of knowledge and of power, — ^for a cre-
ated mind neither knows all actual existence nor all
fossiblej nor does its power extend even so far as its
knowledge^ — ^yet, on the other hand, the range of its
agency is enlarged in one direction, as well as confined
in another, by the limitation of its knowledge. For
though it has not before it (dl really equidistant paths,
many Uiat are not so ih fact may seem so to be; and it
may happen that, without fault or culpable folly, it may
take the longer for the shofter course, believing the two
to be equal. There may be apparent equations where
there are no real ones; and if many of the real are
unknown, many unreal may be supposed.

We think that from this source the sphere of the
agency of wise and holy beings is incalculably ividened;

* Sm note L'L.

118

■nd yet without admittiag st all tbe notion of conttagant
volitioo. Ad attentive reference to consciousness will
convince any one that it is the law or usage of the mind,
on occasions when an alternative must be taken, where
there is no perceived reason which should determine
the choice, to throw itself back upon tlie laws of its
lower nature; that is, to be guided by the involuntary
suggestion that arises at the instant of volition: might
we say, as a man whose eyes are bandaged gives bis
hand to a child to lead him in the path? We have
before likened the perpetual flow of ideas through the
mind to the operatioo of tbe fly-wheel in a machine;
and here it is seen to maintain tbe unceasing velocity of
action, on occasions when an impulse; from the higher
Ikcullies is wanting, aod ivhen otherwise the machine must
stand still. We may well presume that this fact has its
analogy in a higher sphere of beings; ond that so an
iaconceivable diversity, a vohiminous variety, is thrown
ia upon the theatre of celestial life.

And now in reference to tbe Divine agency, or tbe
exercises of infinite power, let it, with becoming mod-
esty, be affirmed, that tbe universe of things pottSih
being present to ihe Divine omniscience, there ate con-
tained in it innumerahle hypotheia of being, itrictly
eqaivaUnt one w^h another, go fsr as benevolence or
wisdom are concerned. To advance even a conjectura
LS to Ihe modeof (ieterminatitm in such instances, would
le in the last degree presumptuous and absurd. It is
nough to koow, that as time, or succession of being, is
lot the condition of tbe Divine existence, such deter-
ninatioos are always actual, not Jntwe, and thereAwo

113

not either unknown or continent. Is it allowable to
say, that the idea of the exercises of supreme poorer
and wisdom is enlarged and enriched by this doctrine
of hypothetical equivalents?

The meditative mind, in looking abroad upon the
vastness of the universe, and in observing that the edi-
fice of the material world is broken into innumerable
portions, far separated one from another, naturally en-
tertains the supposition that the infinite resource? of the
Divine ingenuity (if the word may be allowed) are
copiously unfolding themselves around us, in all possible
modes. And again, when the mind turns from the in-
finitude of space' to the infinitude of duration, ^nd en-
tertains, vaguely, the inconceivable idea of eternity, a
parallel supposition arises and flits before the imagina-
tion,— *that this unbounded ingenuity — this richness of
conception, which exhausts all fof ms of existence, and
all combinations of those forms, will, through an endless
series of successive creations give expression in turn to
each, and run the round of its cycle of wisdom arid
power^ until whatever may he has actually seen the
light of life. And is it then triie that human nature is
destined to be the immortal spectator of these never-
ending developements?

III. It only remains to speak of the Third Class
of causes and effects; or those connections, of which
the bond is either ambiguous, or absolutely inscmtable*

To enumerate all the instances of this sort (or all
that present themselves in the system known to us)
would not be difficult. But it is enough for our imme-
diate purpose to mention, as illustrative of our meaning,

*10

114

the most conspicuous, numely, the priociple of gravita-
tbo^ and of corpuscular attraction and repubioD; the
principle of chemical affinitj, that is to say, of attractioa
as belonging not to all solid masses alike, but to partic-
ular bodies; electrical agencies (of both kinds); the
principle of vegetable life (unless it be resolvable into
chemical or electrical action); the principle of animal
life (unless this also may be so resolved); and, lastly,
the power of mind over matter and over itself. In all
such instances of action, movement, or change of place,
or of quality, or of bulk, or of function, we observe the
invariable antecedent and consequent; and are able to
reason with precision upon the laws, or, as we might
say, modes, of the hidden power; but the link or tie is
deeply concealed. The recison why 6, succeeds to a,
is not to be assigned: the most perfect science pretends
to no knowledge of this ultimate connection. And, in-
deed, in all branches of knowledge, Science is deemed
to have fulfilled her task when she has -proved herself
to have left nothing unknown — except th^e occult
powers.

Metaphysical science has nothing to do with them,
except to abstain from assuming, the gratuitous hypoth-
esis, that in such inscrutable facts there is no real con-
nection, or nothing beyond aptual sequency. We af-
firm, that the presumption gathered from all parts of
science is altogether against such an hypothesis, and,
on the contrary, strongly favors the supposition, ths^t the
great mechanical laws of the universe, and the chemical

* See Dote M M.

115

affinities and aversions of particular bodies, and probaUf
the principles of vegetable and animal life, are rdalion$f
or rather the consequences of relations; so that each
effect is connected with its cause by the same absolute
bond which secures the result of a mechanical contri*
vance, or which makes the two members of an equation
inseparable. We venture to say, that the course of
modern chemical discovery tends towards the belief
that chemical action is the necessary consequence of
the relation subsisting between the elementary structure
of bodies, and that if the occult form of c and d could
be exposed, it would become manifest that their juxta-
position must issue in the compound e.^

In regard to the hidden powers of nature, the whole
question lies between contrivance^ or relation, and
|wwer,-^that is, immediate Divine power; not between
contrivance, power, and merejuxta-position, or arbitrary
sequency; for as, on the one hand, the testimony of
natural science goes to establish the general truth, that
causation rests upon real relations;, and as, on the other,
Divine science establishes th^ truth of a first and intelli-
gent Cause, we are free to choose between the two^ in
all cases of a hidden or ambiguous sort, and can never
be compelled tp take up the hypothesis of contingent
or accidental sequency, which is^ neither natural to the
human mind, nor confirmed in any single instance by
the results of experitneatal philosophy.

In turning to the world of animal and intellectual
life, there is room to ask whether the power of

* See note N N. ^

116

mind over matter, and over itself, should be regard-
ed as,

1. Tbe consequence of a relation of parts, or con-
trivanee only; or—

2. The direct exertion of Divine power; or —

3. A derived and separate (not independent) por-
tion of that essentia] power.

Without resting at all upon so difficult a theme, we
may just say that we should reject the^r^^ supposition,
and prefer the third to the second. Our business is to
affirm, tliat the determination of such questions is not,
in the remotest degree, unportant to any branch of in- -
tellectual, or ethical, or theological philosophy, any
more than an analysis of the principle of gravitation is
important to mechanical science. The fact is enough,
that mind has power to move and modify matter, and
to move and to modify itself. If its possession of the
ISrst-named power were qestioned, we might establish
the fact by striking the sceptic; or, if tbe second were
doubted, we should ask him to propound to us a mathe-
matical theorem, and we would engage, even while
assailed by many disturbing causes from without and
from within, to hold a steady intellectual flight, in a di-
rect line^ from the data to the conclusion, and should
allege the true solution of the theorem as a proof incon-
testible that mind has power^ — a power introvertihle^ as
well as efficient upon matter.

The terms libtrty and necessity may be alleged to
have a relation to this ultimate fact of the power of
mind over itself. If liberty might be taken in the un-
intelligible sense of contingency, or freedom from caus-

117

atioiii then we sajr that this power, as beloagiog to the
human mind, has no liberty; for it always stands under
a triple relationship, namely, to its own attributes and
conditions, to the world of actual or conceivable exist-
ence, and to the interferences of Divine power; and so
far frpm its being insulated from reasons and motives, it'
is only upon and among reasons and motives that it can
work.

But if by liberty be meant scope or range^ then does
this power incalculably augment, enlarge, diversify, and
ennoble the agency of the being possessing it. Upon
this point we have already enlarged. But if liberty
means freedom from restraint^ then the sad truth must
be confessed, that this power, in the human sufqeci, is
largely invaded, and much damaged and obstructed by
the moral riiio-that has afiected the race. Man, in this
sense, is free only in degree; and it is in contemplation
of this lamentable infringement of his native power,
that he should thankfully receive the succor and the
remedial interference offered to him by Christianity.

The correlative term necessity^ in like manner, takes
its pertinence, or its irrelevance, from the precise sense
attached to it when connected with the power of mind^
In the sense of bondage^ impediment^ or restraint^ man,
as we have just said, is in various degrees necessitated
by the prevalence of inordinate desires, and by the force
of inveterate habits. But it should be remembered,
that this sort of necessity is not held m any, even of the
most momentous i^airs of life, to absolve the evil-doer
from bis responsibility to law, or to discbarge him from
bk liability to punishment. Theologians have no need

118

to resort to metaphysical arguments for the purpose of
establishiag the truth, that a debauched habh of mind
does not exonerate a roan from the load of hb guik;
or at least they need not do so until the enormous sup*
position is recognised and acted upon in courts of jus-
tice. Who does not see that the acknowledgment of
a principle like this would, in a day, dissolve the entire
framework of society? And shall it, if inadmissible ^a
earth, be published and received as a maxim of the.
Divine government? A proclamation so fearful would
convert the universe into a prison-house of horrors.
He who enters upon a course of vice, /ccfo that at every
step his moral health and strength are impaired: this
alarming consciousness should awakj^n him to a sense
of his danger. But if it does not so awaken him, no
means remain (consistendy with any system of govern-
ment by laws and sanctions) which can avert from him
the terrible consequences of becoming at length the
helpless slave of licentious habits. And yet, not even
the last stage of tbialdom absolutely breaks up the con-
^tituUon of human nature: man is, to the last (unless
frenzied), open to a sense of his ultimate welfare; and
the motives thence derived, if understood^ ?ire always
more than adequate to determine the conduct of a ra^
tional being. And besides, instanqes are on record of
moral revolutions, even in cases apparently the most
hopeless. Man, therefore, though bis ti'ue liberty is/gready
impaired^ never becomes (in the present life) so neces-
sitated as to render a recovery strictly impracticable.

The delusive influence of the ill'K^hosen word neces-
sUy, as used in tbia oontrQversy, increaiies (might we

119

myi) ID geometrical progression at every step, as w^
ascend from materid causes towards the higher stagQ
of intellectual agency. Those who think fit to do so,
may very harmlessly, though very ineptly, talk of the
fwessity which binds together the parts of a mathemati-
cal proposition; or they may so speak of the connection
of causes and effects in the system of animated nature;
and they may still advance a step, without being liable
to a conviction of absolute error. But as we rise on
the scale of life, the aswdated ideas that cling to the
term actually intercept from our view the simple matters
of which we are speaking; and while, perhaps, our chain
of reasoning is mform correct, it is infact seductive or
false.

To speak of power as latent or inert, is a solecism;
at least it is not the notion with which we have to do.
Can we, then, conceive of power active, that is to say,
of power in the proper and only intelligible sense of the
word, as not related to any subject or matter whereupon
it works? Or can we conceive of power as an attribute
of an intelligent and of a moral being, and yet not rela-
ted to the knowledge and to the emotions of that being?
Or could we deem it a perfection in the constitution of
a rational agent, that his power should operate like a
vague and brutal violence, taking its course this way
and that, with the blind vehemence of a hurricane? Or,
is not rather the idea of rational perfection filled up by
the supposition of power, related, on the one hand, to
Us subject, by the bond of uniform and unfailing effi^
ciency; and on the other, to the knowledge and emo-
tions of the agent, by the tie of infallible determinatioa

1

120

or direction? Whatever is deducted from the constancj
or invariable sequency of these connections, makes a
proportionate deduction from the excellence and trtu
freedom of the agent. The agent whose power is not
thus necessitated^ in the most absolute sense, is, to the
whole extent of the want of necessity, not free. A de-
ficiency of necessity, in the higher sense of the word, is
an increase of necessity in the lower. And here, once
again, we must note the synonymous import of the words
liberty and necessity, when the highest perfection is
spoken of. And it is manifest that this necessity, far
from carrying with it any idea of bondage, or confine-
ment, or fatality, is the very secret and the'indispensa-*
ble condition of the full and unimpaired liberty of
celestial natures.

The controversy comes to a point on this position:
nor is it difficult to discern in what way, by the mysti-
fications that belong to theological argument, and by the
malignant obscurations that have been shed oyer it from
the hands of those who have labored to subvert religion
and morality, and to debauch and vilify man, — a very
inteiligible matter has been wrapped in dark clouds of
difficulty. Let but the difierence between mechanical
laws and living agencies be confounded, and let the ele-
mentary differences that distinguish the several orders
of sentient beings be lost sight of, and let the gloomy
word necessity be put in the place of the simple words
relation and causation; and then the way , will be clear
for talking of such facts as the fall of bodies to the earth,
or the collapse of chemical elements, and of the agency
of the highest order of intelligences, who seek their

131

faappioess at large on all the fields of the universe, under
dne and the same set of affected phrases. And thus,
because mind is furnished with knowledge, and is sus-
ceptible of emotion, and is endowed with power, and is
thus qualified to maintain and enlarge its well-being
through a course of endless advancements; and be-
cause this well-being is secured by its invariable con-
nection with an established order of events, therefore
(say sophists) it becomes reasonable to speak of the lot
of isuch high intelligences as if it were overruled by the
sarne fatality which confines a stone to the spot whereon
ii has fallen!

Por the purpose of banishing for ever these delusions,
it would be well to lay aside entirely the word necessity,
which is ridiculously superfluous and redundant in some
of its applications, ^nd absurd or seductive in others.
If, for example, we have occasion to speak of a known
relation of equality or proportion, why not be content
with the simple assertion, that the predicate is true of
the subject? or that a+b is equal to c ? Or, if a con-
clusion has been derived from a somewhat complicated
iSeries of proofs, so that a moderate asservation seems
to be dalled for, let the word certainty suflice us.
Certainty is the knowledge of truth, obtained by labor
and research; and when by labor and research we have
gained the knowledge of any complex system of rela-
tions, it may be granted that there is a propriety in
speaking of the certainty of those relations: though in
fact nothing more is meant than what is affirmed when
the relation is expressed in the very simplest and most
ntodest form.

11

122

If the noble liberty — ^the range, and scope, and tin-*
restrained capacity of happiness, which is the distmctbD
of rational agents of the higher orders, be the subject of
discourse; and if we would express the fact that such
beings rule their destinies through the changeful scenes
of immortality by their knowledge and virtue, we shall
do well to avoid the employment of a phrase which
seems to imply that those destinies are overruled in
some other way than by the combinations of knowledge^
virtue, and power.

All that is important to ethics and theology is implied
in the knowledge of the introvertible power of mind;
and we must here observe, that its existence as a phy-
siological fact — as a fact which forms the elementary
difference between man and the inferior classes of
sentient beings, has been too little insisted upon by
ethical and religious controvenists; and though famil-
iarly known to all men, has been (like ten thousand
Other familiar facts) overlooked by phibsophers.

The Arminian divine, inwardly persuaded, he knows
not on what ground, that human nature contains a
something more than the passivity of brute matteir, or
of animal life, has recourse to the figment of Contingent
Volition; and then, to give his unintelligible notion an .
appearance of consistency, has been led to the enormous
error of denying the Divine fore-knowledge. Thus, in
hb ^seal to defend one attribute of Deity he has demol*
ished another. Why will he not be content with the
simple principles of human nature, as known to all men,
and as recognised in the transactions of every day, and
with the plain evidence of the Bible, which always

133

I
\

takes up and supposes the existence of those prm-
dples?

His opponent, the Calmist, spurning the absurdities
of Arminian metaphysics, believes that, when he has
scattered these sophisms, he has exhausted the subject
c^ human agency, and may triumphandy return from
the vanquished field to his own theological position;,
nor deems it necessary once to lay aside his high
lenses, or to look abroad upon human nature as it shews
itself to the naked eye of common sense. Then he
goes to his Bible, cased in metaphysical certainties, and
proceeds, without scruple or compunction, to apply the
crushing engine of dogmatical exposition to all passages
that do not naturally fall in with the abstractions which
he has framed to himself. Meanwhile, men of sense
are disgusted, and sceptics glory. How shall these
evOs be remedied? — ^how, unless by the prevalence of a
better — a genuine system of interpretation?

But even vnthout this better exposition, a great and
important reform would spontaneously follow from a
more vivid persuasion of the reality of the great facts
affirmed in the Scriptures. Let but the quickening
^rmations of the inspired writers be ^owed to take
effect on the ground of the ordinary motives of human
life; let it but be believed that the Son of God has
come to inform men (his fellows, by an ineffiible conde-
'scension,) of a future danger to which all are liable;
and to impart to them freely a benefit they could never
have obtained by their own efibrts; and then it will no
more seem pertinent or necessary to adjust the terms of
this message of mercy to metaphysical subtilties, than

c

i
I

124

it does to do the like when a friend snatches a friend
from ruin, or when a father bears his children in his arms
from a scene of perils. How much mischief has arisen
from the supposition that a mystery belongs to the mat-*
V ter of salvation, which waits to be cleared up by phi-
losophy.

Philosophy, it is to be hoped, will at length work its
way through its own difficulties. But the result to
Christianity of so happy a success, would simply be, to
set in a stronger light the enormous folly of obstructbg
the course of a momentous practical affiiir by the
impertinences of learned disputation.

r -*•

NOTES.

Note A. p. 18.

The devout Edwards. — The life of Edwards should be perused
by every one who reads his "Essay on Freedom of Will." Let
il be said that his style of Christianity might have borne some
corrections; and let it also be admitted, that, in his modesty, and'
his low estimation of himself, and in his love of retirement, his
melancholic temperament had an influence. After every deduc-
tion of this sort has been made, it must be granted, that this
eminent man, whose intellectual superiority might have enabled
him to shine in European colleges of learning, displayed a meek
greatness of soul which belongs only to those who derive their
principles from the Gospel. How refreshing is the contrast of
sentiments which strikes us in turning from the private corres-
pondence of men who thought of nothing beyond their personal
fame as philosophers or writers, to the correspondence and diary
of a man like Edwards! In the one case, the single, paramount
motive-i— literary or philosophic vanity — lurks. in every sentence,
u^^lushingly shews itself on many a page, and when most con-
cealed, is concealed by an affectation as loathsome as the fault it
hides. ' But how much of this deformed self-love could the most
diligent detractor cull from the private papers or works of the
•^President of the New Jersey College? We question if a single
tsentence which could be fairly construed to betray the vanity or
ambition of superior intelligence is any whereto be found in
them. Edwards daily contemplated a glory, an absolute ex-
cellence, which at once checked the swellings of pride, and
Fickened him of the praise which his powers might have won
from the world.

126

Edwardf (thougli, in listeiiiiig to hb own aecouit of himelf,
one wonld not think it,) wish mam ofgemMS — we mean imtgina*
tiTO, and open to all those moving lentiments which raiie high
•ools aboTO the preeent acene of things. Among the reaiona
which inclined him to excoae himself from the proffered presi-
dencjy he alleges^ — First, his own defects, unfitting him for such
an ondertakingy/'manj of which are general! j known," sajs he,
''besides others which mj own heart is conscious of. I have a
constitation in manj respects peculiarly nnhappj, attended with
flaccid solids; rapid, sizy, and scarce fluids; and a low tide of
spirits, often occasioning a kind of childish weakness, and con-
temptibleness of speech, presence, and demeanor; with a disa*
greeable dulness and stiffness, much unfitting me for conversation,
but more especially for the gOTemment of a college." This de-
scription of his mental conformation is curious, physioUgieaUyj
as an anatomy of a mind so remarkable for its faculty of abstrac-
tion. May we not say, that this very poverty of constitution, this
sluggishness and aridity, this feeble pulse of life, was the very
secret of his extraordinary power of analysis? The supposition
leads to speculations concerning the physical conditions of the
mind, which must not here be pursued; but it may be remarked,
in passing, that it must be from the copious collection and right
use of facts of this sort, that progress will be made (if ever) in
the science of mind.

But, notwithstanding the apparent coldness of his temperament,

Edwards was manifestly susceptible, and in no common degree,

of those emotions which are rarely conjoined with the philosophic

faculty. Let an instance be taken from his diary: — ''There

seemed to be, as it were, a calm, sweet C9,st, an appearance^f

divine glory, in almost every thing: God's excellency, his wisdom,

his purity and love, seemed to appear in every thing; in the sun,

moon, and stars; in the clouds and blue sky; in the grass,

flower% trees; in the water, and all nature, which used greatly

to fix my mind. / qften ttsed to sit and view the moon for coniinu- *

once; and, in the day, spent much time in viewing the clouds

and sky, to behold the sweet glory of God in these things: in the

mean time singing forth, with a low voice, my contemplations of

the Creator and Redeemer. And scarce any thing among all the

works of nature was so sweet to me as thunder and lightning;

#

127

formerly nothing had been so terrible to roe. While thai en-
gagedy it always seemed natural to me to sing or chant forth my
meditations; or to speak my thoughts in soliloquies with a singing
Yoice."

That Edwards, by constitution of mind, was more than a dry
and cold thinker, might be proved by reference to many passages
even in his '*£ssay on Free Will" as well as his less abstruse
writings. He was master in fact, of a simple eloquence, of no
mean order: — "Holiness, as I then wrote down some of my con-
templations on it, appeared to me to be of a sweet, pleasant,
charming, serene, calm nature; which brought an inexpressible
purity, brightness, peacefulness, and ravishment, to the soul.
In other words, that it made the soul like a field or garden of
God, with all manner of pleasant flowers; all pleasant, delight-
ful, and undisturbed, enjoying a swejet calm, and the gently
vivifying beams of the sun. The soul of a true Christian, as I
then wrote my meditations, appeared like such a little white
flower as ^e see in the spring of the year, low and humble, on
the ground; opening its bosom to receive the pleasant beams of
the sun's glory; rejoicing, as it were, in a calm rapture; diffusing
around a sweet fragancy; standing peacefully and lovingly in
the midst of other flowers round about; all, in like manner,
opening their bosoms to drink in the light of the [sun. There
was no part of creature holiness that I had so great a sense of its
loveliness as humility, brokenness of heart and poverty of spirit:
and there was nothing that I so earnestly longed for. My heart
panted afler this, — to lie low before God, as in the dust, that I
might be nothing* and that God might be all, ^hat I might be-
come as a little child."

These sentiments were not the exuberances of a youthful
melancholic ardor, but ;ave tone to the character and conduct of
the man through life. To accomplish the will of God on earth
was the ruling motive of his soul; and to have sought his own
glory, he would have thought an enormous departure from true
virtue. If his definition of true virtue be liable to objection, his
exemplification of it shewed him to have understood practically
the secret of all substantial goodness.

138

• NoTX B. p. 25.

The pendulam-gpring of a watch is a very nice instrument,
mnd one in the construction of which three sciences, besides
manual skill, are called in to ^ve their aid. In the first place,
the due action of the shining thread, which maintains the oscil-
latorj movement of the balance-wheel, depends upon its con-
formity to the mathematical conditions of the spiral curve. Then
must be considered the doctrine of elasticity, ^^ut tensio, sic vis,"
and the mechanical laws of motion, which are to determine the
necessary proportion between the thickness of the spring and its
length and then, too, the very delicate calculation of the taper ,
as connected with the kind of escapemerU with which it is destined
to act, — one kind of escapement requiring a spring of equal bulk
throughout, while the more accurate kinds demand a diminishing
substance from end to end. The third science implied in the
proper construction of this little agent, is that which teaches the
method of imparting to the rude metal of which it is formed, its
elastic property, and of tempering it in the due degree. In fact
both chemistry and metallurgy are concerned in this business;
and in the manufacture of steel for watch-springs, much of that
peculiar or workshop knowledge is demanded which is not to be
found in books. Now, the exact movement of the pendulum-
spring is that idtimate result which brings to a point, if we might
BO speak, the converging lines of several distinct sciences. Who
shall estimate the confusion that must arise from an attempt to
treat as one these several calculations and processes, which are
essentially different, and which must be held apart until they are
combined in the various conditions of the spring?

That practical science which relates to the strength of hatx-
RIALS, in like manner combines the principles of several sciences.
Let the problem be, to determine the necessary breadth and depth
of the girder of a floor, that shall sustain a given weight, the length
of the span also being given. Now, these dimensions are not to
be found without having recourse, y^r-^^, to the higher mathemat-
ics, or these purely abstract truths which are independent of all
the laws of the actual world, and which would be what they are,
although there were no such principle as gravitation, or no
material system. In the next place, this law of gravitation must
be understood, in order to find the point of the strain, as well aa

139

the true proportion between depth mnd breadth. And, lastly^ the
peetdiar propertits of the several species of timber must be pre-
cisely known, and knovm hy experiment* The proportion between
depth, breadth, and lenjjrth, will varj, as the compressibilitj,
cohesive force, toughness, &c. of oak, fir, &c., or of the several
kinds of oak or fir vary. British, Riga, Norway, American oak,
will give each its precise dimension to the girder; and it is not the
mathematician, but the naturalist, who must inform the practical
man on these points. (See Tredgold's *^ Elementary Principles
of Carpenty," section z. on the Nature and Properties of Timber.
The same able writer's treatise on the ^'Strength of Iron" affords
a multitude of instances of a siniilar kind. See also barlow's
''Essay on the Strength and Stress of Timber.")

Now, let it, in these cases, be stipposed that the mathematiciaui
dogmatically confident of .his demonstrations, were (and this is
in fact the fault of the earlier mathematicians, and not seldom of
Leibnitz,) to determine the problem above mentioned, as if it
were a pure abstraction, or, if he referred loosely to certain vulgar
facts concerning the strength of timber, were neither to make
experiments of this physical kind, nor to swerve at all from his
mathem9.tical processes in regard to them: — in this case all his
products must be erroneous. Or, though correct mathematically,
they would be inapplicable to the real world, and useless, or worse
than useless, in practice. ^ is but of late that these cases of com-
plicated PRINCIPLES have been made matters of science. We
must not wonder, therefore, that, within the hazy precincts of in-
tellectual philosophy, distinctions and separations of a parallel kind
have scarcely at all been regarded. Now, to return to the instance
before us, of the "Treatise on Freedom of Will," the argument
is, in the main, abstract, but not purely so; for besides the ad-
mixture of Scripture proofs, the physiology of the human mind
is^taken up as its material or subject, and yet far too loosely and
vaguely to satisfy those who look at human nature as an object
of natural philosophy. Or, to refer allusively to the illustration
above given, Edwards is an accomplished mathematieian; but he
thought little, or did not take into his calculations, the difference
between oaktmdfir. His "Treatise on the Will" is, to a true
philosophy of human nature, as the demonstrations of Leibnitz-^
DemoTistrationes Nova de Resistentia SpZidortim— are to modem
mechanical science*

130

NoTs C. p. 96.

The ingenioui author of "Studies of Nature*' toiled vainlj to
establish his theory of the tides on the principle of the melting of
arctic snows and ices: he should haye lived before Newton, and
might then have enjoyed his century or two of celebrity. He
•ought for a particular truth among a set of causes in which it
was not to be found. Pliny might have arrived at the real fact, for
he set foot upon the true course, as did Bacon;' but St. Pierre
could never have reached it. The doctrine of tides furnishes
another example of the combination of causes of different orders
in a single result. It is asked, why does the Thames at Lon-
don bridge fill its bed at three o'clock to-day? Shall it be said, be-
cause the waters of the ocean obey the law of gravitation, and
are heaped into a mighty wave by sun and moon. But this ex-
planation, though the true one, will not adjust itself to the facts;
and we must calculate all ithe local causes, the turns of the river,
the form of the bed, the currents of the > channel, before we can
bring the abstract theory into correspondence with the actual
event of high-tide at three o'clock. These essentially different
classes of causes must both be Calculated, but must not be con*
founded or confused. '

' Not* D. p. 27.

The disposition of the French people, as compared with the
English, to ascend too high in the discussion of practical ques-
tions, is a very remarkable fafit. We should not satisfactorily
account for it on one ground only. It must not be said of tha
English, thattliey are not a philosophical people; yet it is true that,
whenever thd substantial interests of life are under discussion,
they she\<r a determined dislike to abstract or metaphysical argu-
mentation; — they will listen to nothing that is not unquestionably
pertinent and proximate. The good sense, the love of despatch
and of perspicuity, which belong to the mercantile character, are
here apparent. And may we not also say, that the miugled mod-
esty and pride of the English character have a share in producing
the same effect.'' An Englishman avoids speaking of matters to
which, he has not giyen su^ient attention; he will not expose
himself to ridicule by venturing beyond his line: he therefore
leaves philosophy to philosophers, and talks of politics and com-
merce only as matters of fact..

131

But the Freochman has no such scruples — no such fears:
whether artisan^ hourgeoiSi soldier, or noble, he is master of all
sciences — ^a cyclopsdist; and is as ready in discourse upon ab-
stract principles as upon the merits of an actress. Then, the
French people, at the time of the breaking out of the revolution
had not enjoyed the advantage of possessing any middle ground
between the sottish absurdities of their national religion, and the
wild theories of their atheistical teachers. They had no alterna-
tive but to be devout (in the sense of their priests), or to be mad
in speculation. And as they had no reasonable religion whereon
common sense might exercise itself, so neither had they any con-
stitution which might save them from the extreme of the old regi-
men on the one side, or of the republican delirium on the others
Neither in religion nor politics could they choose, except between
the faith of dotards or the impudence of charlatans; and if they
scorned to doze and dream, must run frantic in extravagance.
Moreover, the revolution brought upon the stage of public life mul-
titudes of men whose habits and education had given them no qual-
ification whatever for the transaction of the practical business of
government. Tfaese,if they would figure at all, must do so as phi-
losophers. For it is a much easier thing to talk profoundly as a
metaphysician, than wisely to reform existing institutions, or than
to carry forwatd the e very-day business of state. The metaphy-
sical fashion, it is to be feared has not yet^ wrought all its mis-
chief in France. To some causes of a similar kind may be
traced much of th^t want of good sense which deforms the Ger-
man philosophy and theology.

Note E. p, 27.

There is not merely a natural connection between despotism^
and mysticism, and fatalism, and atheism, and pantheism; so that
it shall be almost invariably true, that where political systems,
like those of Asia, are found, we shall find also, among the
learned, some such form of abstruse and absurd philosophy; but
U is the scorching heat of despotism which imparts to these doc-
trines their power of mischief, by bringing thera but from cells
and colleges, into the markets^ and fields^ and homes of common
life. The combined influence of gQod^ government and Chris- :
tianityi if it does not disperse metaphysical errors altogether, will

132

unfiuliniflj confine them to the closets of the sophists with whom
thej originate.

Note F. p. 34.

Every one is aware of the beneficial tendency of genuine sci-
ence; bat it is not, perhaps, always dnly remembered, that every
practical application of the principles of mathematical, mechanical,
chemical, or physiological philosophy, is a new affirmation of the
Divine benevolence towards man. Shall we say, it is a fresh
text, translated from the unwritten Bible of God's creation, cor-
roborating our faith in the paternal care of Him in whom we live,
and move and have our being? And this might be^ said even if
these beneficial discoveries were the results of chance. But when
they come to us as the product of laborious intellectual operations,
they assert the same great truth with a peculiar emphasis, inas-
much as they not merely declare the Divine purpose — that man
should be well accommodated, and aided, and comforted, in this
his terrene abode; but that he should win every advantage by
the exertion of his higher faculties. Each benefit derived from a
better knowledge of nature is a premitim of mind — a boon given
as the reward of intellectual efibrt: and while it declares in one
of its inscriptions that the Maker of the universe is the friend of
man, in the other it exhorts man to be his own friend, by the
diligent employment of his mental powers.

Every branch of modern science abounds' with instances of
remote correspondences between the great system of the world,
and the welfare of man in the artificial (the truly natural) condition
to which knowledge raises him. If these correspondences were
single or rare, they might be deemed merely fortuitous; like the
drafting of a plank athwart the track Of one who is swimming
from a wreck. Bat when they meet us onall sides and invari-
ably, we must be resolute in atheism not to confess that they axe
emanations from one and the same centre of wisdom and gopdness.
Is it nothing more than a lucky accommodation which makes the
polarity of the needle, to subserve the purposes of the mar-
iner? Or may it not safely be affirmed, both that the magnetic
influence (whatever its primary intention may be) had reference
to the business of navigation-^-a reference incalculably important
fo the spread and improvement of the human race; and that the

133

diicovery and the application of this inflaenca arrived at the des-
tined moment in the revolation of human affairs, when, in com-
bination with other events, it would produce the greatest effect?
Not should we scruple to affirm^ that the relation between the
inclination of the earth's axis and the conspicuous star which,
without a near rival, attracts even the eye of the vulgar, and
shews the north to the wanderer on the wilderness, or on the
ocean, is in like manner a beneficent arrangement. Those who
would spurn the supposition that the celestial locality of a sun,
immeasurably remote from our system, should have reference to
the accommodation of .the inhabitants of a planet so inconsider-
able as oui own, forget the style of the Divine works, which is,
to secure s6me great or principal end, compatibly with ten
thousand lesser and remote interests. Man, if he would secure
the greater, must neglect or sacrifice the less: not so the Omni-
potent Contriver. It is a fact full of meaning, that those astron-
omical phenomena (and so others) which offer themselves as
available for the purposes of art; as, for instance, of navigation,
or geography; do not fully .or effectively yield the aid they
promise, until after long and elaborate processes or calculations
have disentangled them from variations, disturbing forces, and
apparent irregularities. - To the rude fact, if so we might de-
signate it, a mass of recondite science must be appended, before
it can be brought to bear with precision upon the .arts of life.
Thus, the polarity of the needle, or the eclipses of Jupiter's
moons, are as nothing to the mariner, or the geographer, without
the voluminous commentary furnished by the mathematics of
astronomy. The fact of the expansive force of steam must em-
ploy the intelligence and energy of the mechanicians of an em-
pire, during a century, before the whole of its beneficial powers
can be put in activity. Chemical, medical, and botanical science
is filled with parallel instances; and they all affirm, in an articu-
late manner, the twofold purpose of the Greator^to benefit man,
and to educate him.

Now, in the metaphysical dogmas of absolute and universal
scepticism, and o€ philosophical fatalism, there is a conspicuous
contrariety to the testimony of all other sciences in both th€$e
respects. For these dogmas, in the first place, represent man to
be the helpless victim of an inexorable power, rather than thd

12

134

ehild of an indulgent parent; and then, instead of eoniting and
cherishing his energies and his intelligence, they paralyse the
one, and astoand the other, by proving to him that his toils are
idle — ^his notions of truth absurd or unfounded — his convictions
illusory — his deductions fallacious, and his whole nature a paia*
doz. If, then, this order of metaphysics claims respect, as a
scieneef it is contradicted by sciences better established than
itself. If it be the mere reverie of a debauched intelligence, then
we cheerfully allow it all the honor that is usually thought due
to meditations of that quality.

Note G. p. 37.

The entire mass of intellectual and theological philosophy
divides itself into two classes, the one irreconcilably opposed to
the other. The first is, in its spirit, and in all its doctrines, con-
sentaneous with human feelings and interests. The second is,
both as a whole, and in its several parts, paradoxical. The first
is the philosophy of modesty, of inquiry, of induction, and of
belief. The second is the philosophy of abstraction, as opposed
to induction; and of inipudence, as opposed to a respectful at*
tention to nature and to evidence. The first takes natural and
mathematical science by the hand, observes the same methods,
labors to promote the same ends; and the sisters are never at
variance.^ The second stands, rufiian-like, upon the road of
knowledge, and denies progress to the human mind. The first
shews an interminable an^ practicable, though difiScult ascent.
The second leads to the brinX of an abyss, into which reason and
hope must together plunge. The first is grave, laborious, and
productive. The second ends in a jest, of which man, and the
world, and its Maker, are the subject.

The paradoxical philosophy, thoUiprli always the same in prin-
ciple, takes its style from the manners of those by whom it is
entertained. In Scotland and in England it has ordinarily been
decent, specious, veiled: — in Trance, bold, explicit, shameless.
Hobbes, indeed, who first gave to England a philosophy of this
order, as he connected himself with the most profligate party that
has ever made a %ure upon the stage of English affairs, assumed
a tone which is not English: as a writer he is not indigenous to

135

our literature. Hume had a better tact, and knew how to clothe
(he same inimical philosbphy in a garb of elegance and of sancti-
monious modesty. If Hume be compared with Diderot, Helve-
tiu8) and their school; the diiference between England and France,
at that time, will present itself to the eye. The sense and sub-
stance are the same; but the dialect and the fashion are very
dissimilar. Tt is consolatory to find, that when the doctrines of
this anti-human, or unnatural philosophy, are to be prepared for
holding intercourse' with the lower classes in our own country,
and when they are to unclothe themselves, and appear horrid,
and hirsute, as proper savages, it is necessary to bring them over
from France.

The very same distinction runs through theology, and divides
in two, some of those religious bodies that, in name and political
being, are one. There ii9 a theology which takes up the consti-
tution of human nature, and brings to bear upon it, kindly and
consentaneously, the reme<)ial powers of Christianity. And there
is a theology which ma'kes a jest of human nature,, which insults
its woes, denies to it any available aid; and is, if it must be called
a Gospel, a gospel of hostility and of mockery. The sisterhood
and relationship of the sceptical or atheistical philosophy, and of
the Antinomian theology, might be traced in a striking similarity
of sentiment and expression; and not a few passages might be
taken from the pages of the most licentious of ^the French infidel
writers, which, with the substitution of here and there t phrase,
would seem to come very consistently from the lips of certain
notorious divines. If there be any important difference ii is, that
the preabher surpasses his brother the atheist both in rancor and
in impudende.

Note H. p. 38. /

By the real sciences, those are intended that rest upon evi-
dence which secures the consent of air who are competent to
comprehend it; and which therefore excludes sects and oppositions
of opinion. If Christianity be a system of metaphysical deduc-
tions, it must, of course, maintain itself among other principles
of the same class; and inust bring all its positions into accordance
with them; or must vanquish them with the weapons of schblas-

136

tio warfare, and modt appeal to abatraot tratbi on every oeeasion
of controversy. But if it be simply and solely a matter of hie-
tory (as to its truth) and of verbal affirmation (as to its doctrines),
then nothing can be more enormous than the 'attempt to being
the general fact, or the particular affirmations, into collision with
the principles of metaphysical science.

Even in those instances in which one science bears manifestly
upon another, as, for instance, chemistry upon vegetable and
animal physiology; or where a yet unformed science stands be>
tween two that are more advanced than itself: as geology stands
between mechanical and astronomicar science on the one side,
and chemistry on the other; the one is not allowed to trample
upon the other; nor is it permitted that the infant science should
be oppressed or brow-beat by those that are more mature. An,
for example: — astronomical and mechanical calculations may
seem to demand the belief, that the earth is a hollow sphere; and
chemical science may appear to favor the same supposition.
Meanwhile, the geologist is allowed to collect his own BO;rt t>f
evidence, bearing upon the matter of fact, and to pursue hie own
mode of reasoning upon the probable history of the crust of the
earth, and to deduce thence his conjectures, without being intim-
idated by either the astronomical calculation, or the chemical
theory: and in whatever result his inductions may issue, that re-
sult would- nevef be scouted because not easily reconciled with
the doctrine derived from another line of reasoning. The moil-
esty of true philosophy bequeaths such apparent' discordances to
the sagacity and industry of a future age.

The reason of this procedure is obvions. — An inference de-
rived from an undoubted fact has no retrospective efficiency to
invalidate that fact. An inference drawn from one fact may stand
opposed to an inference resulting from another. But theise facts
cannot affect each other circuitously through their inference^, as
a medium of communication; for this were to give to them such
a retrospective power. The two facts stand ' independently
on their proper evidence, and send forth their branching conse-
quences irrespectively of each other. It might happen that some
remote consequence of the truth that 90 is to 1X5, as 18 to 23,
might seem to interfere with a remote consequence from the
other truth, that the sum of the squares of the two sides is equal

137

tin f qnm of the hypotheniua of a right-angle triangle. Bat
BO force of aeeming inconsistency conld invest such a conse-
quence with the power of making the other verity untrue. If so,
then the practice of reasoning retrogressively, through infer-
encesy from fact to fact, is a fiiUacious practice; and one which
will not be resorted to by those whd respect the principles of phi-
losophical logic. It is not at all more reasonable to have recourse
to this method where one of the facts is more certainly known
than the other, than it is in those cases where both are equally
certain. For it can have no place unless this less clearly known
fact is first assumed to be false, which is a mere petitio prindpH.

So long as divines continue, in opposition to the methods of all
true science, to«djust among themselves difierences of interpre-
tation, by the aid of abstract principles, they cannot complain
when atheists reject Christianity altogether, by another appUca?
tien of. the same sort of argument. It must be allowed to be a
legitimate mode of reasoning to say-r-Certain ancient writings
could not have existed in the age of Nero; for the material world
affords.no conclusive evidence of having sprung from an intelli-
gent Cause: — if it be also a true method of interpreting those
writings to control, or revise the grammatical sense of words, at
the demand of metaphysical abstractions. This is an evil too old
to pass away in a day: yet must it pass away: and the tendency
of nil events is to sweep it, ere long, into the oc^an of things for-
gotten or contemned. - f

Note I. p. 29.

It was not to be expected that themen who, in the second and
third centuries, came over to the church from schools of philoso-
phy, or schools of rhetoric, should forget the habits of mind they
had acquire, or should deny the fond wish to conciliate their old
philosophy with their new religion. And in .coming among the
uninstrucied faithful, it was natural that they shoul4 cherish and
employ the intellectual advantage they possessed over their new
associates, and should endeavor to shine as learned expounders
of Christian doctrine, when they had relinquished the honors of
secular learning. The style of philosophical exposition which
was set in the second century, has only changed names, and nuii-

*13

*,

138

/ ten, and phrases, from that time to this. The Reformers did iaiAtd

I reject both Aristotle and the Pope, as authorities in matters of

\ religion; and thej turned with a sincere and manly resolution to

\ the inspired writers, as the only teachers of doctrine. But they did

, not rid themselves (any more than did the Platonic fathers) of

the intellectual habits which their education had given them;

and while they looked to the Scriptures alone, and looked to them

with all imaginable reverence, their method of interpretation was

thoroughly metaphysical; — ^their rule of doctrinal harmony or

consistency was drawn from the logic of the middle ages; and the

method of interpreting Scripture, as Bacon taught the world to

interpret nature, entered not the mind of one of them.

The Reformers were commanding spirits, and they effected
the greatest revolution in human affaire that the world has wit-
nessed. But an absolute pause has since ensued. The church
has seen, indeed, very many zealous and accomplished divines;,
but no commanding spirits, from the age of Luther arid Calvin
to the present day. Interpretation is now almost what they left
it. Criticism has indeed been immensely advanced, and the
riches of erudition have been accumulated in vast masses around
the sacred text^ But every interpreter follows bis predecessors
in the wheel*way of his denomination; and leaves theology too
much what natural philosophy was at t^e time of the publication
of the Novum Organum. It is imperfectly or dimly seen, that
the Bible is the work of the same Hand that built. the world^
and must therefore be studied in the ^ame^ method.

History is never so instructive as when single and special
themes are pursued through the course of ages. It is much to
be desired that a history of Biblical exposition should be given to
the church. Not a history of criticism and erudition, but of
principles and theological philosophy. It should have its com-
mencement with the earliest Jewish expositors, among whom
would be found the rudiments of all the abuses that, have since
belonged to this department of intellectual labor.

Note K. p. 43.

Hume was far too sagacious not to perceive, what he was far
too astute to tell his reader, that his argument against Christian*

139

ity, if good for any thiDg, ought to pass as a plough-share of dt«
Btraotion oyer the entire field of human affairs. It is amazing
that so much importance should have been attached to so puerile
a conceit^-a conceit which, if divested of its garb of philosophic
gtavity, is rapid nonsense, that does not recommend itself even
by the ingenuity that often makes a foolish sophism amusing.
And yet such are the immunities and privileges granted to any
sort of sceptical argument, that this same sophism, refuted a
hundred times, is still respectfully regarded by writers of repute.
The proper answer, or at least a sufficient one, has very recently
been given (Edinburgh Rev. No. 104, Art. VJ.) to a new expres-
sion of Hume's quibble, but given with a reserve in favor of rn-
fidelity, and with a closing insinuation against the Christian evi-
dences, for which it would have been far more manly to have sub-
stituted a candid avowal ot Unbelief. The author of the book, to
which, in this, and. another instance, (Second preliminary Dis-
sertation, prefixed to the 7th ed. of the Ency^l. Brit. p. 354) an
importance is given that must have been founded on some other
reason than its merits, urges the argument against Christianity
with all the simplicity of one who has never been reminded, that
it presses, with equal force, upon every transaction of common
life, and upon all the methods of modern science. The reason-
ing of Essay III. on ''the Fundamental Principle of all Evidence
and Expectation," if sound, disperses with a breath (to take one
example from a hundred) the modern chemistry; ior it not only
proves it to be absurd to receive the testimony of experimenters
who .describe any other combination of substances than those we
have personally observed, but it forbids a man to believe even the
evidence of his own senses, when a new phenomenon ipeets
him! Is this philosophy? if not, what epithet shall we bestow
upon it? In every case of a deviation from that order of events
which hitherto we have observed, instead of either questioning
the evidence of our senses, or resolutely refusing to. receive good
and abundant testimony, aqd instead of supposing that a dissolu-
tion of the connection of cause and effect has happened, we sim-
ply presume that some new and unknown cause has come in to
disturb the usual course pf events. This presumption is the very
instrument of all discovery in experimental philosophy. Every
new, or unexpected, or ijiexplicabla appearancoi (and such are of

140

tory frequent oeearrence in a eotine of chemical experimeiit)
nuggtBla the eonviction that an unknown canse it preaent: then
Ibllowe the hypothesis which is to grnide the way in making fresh
experiments, with the yiew of detecting the hidden power. Now
this process is not merely abstractedly reasonable, but has been
abundantly authenticated by the actual results of such processes.

If such a case may at all be supposed as that adduced by the
author of these Essays — namely, the testimony of many credible
witnesses to the fact, that a cubic inch of ice remained undis-
solved when exposed to the heat of a furnace; instead of taking
the course which he recommends — ^that of rejecting, by a yio-
lence upon our own convictions, the testimony of a hundred com-
petent and u&exceptibnable witnesses, we, in the spirit of true phi-
losophy, should first accept the fact so attested as indubitable; und
should then confidently presume— not that Nature had forgottep
her laws* in that instance, but that some extraordinary cause was
present to intercept the operation of heat upon ice. With the
hope of discovering this extraordinary agent, we should rigidly'
examine all the circumstances of the experimentj-r-should frame
every conceivable hypothesis, and should put each in tarn to the
test; and if after all we failed in our endeavors, should simply
record the fact as unexplained, and bequeath it to the next age,
when perhaps a perfected philosophy may clear up this, and many
Other difficulties. ,

But now let it be supposed, that the hundred competent per"
sons who have affirmed that, in their presence, ice remained un-
dissolved in a furnace, were to explain the matter, by saying that
the water, before its congelation, had be^n impregnated with a'
newly-discovered chemical agent, which had the property of con-
verting water into an indissoluble crystal. If this affirmation be
also properly attested,'then, what inconsistency remains? — none;
except on the part of the sceptic, who had declared, in the true
style of ignorance, that, "nobody should make him believe what
he had not seen with his own eyes.".

It is scarcely necessary to apply the argument to the Oase of
the Christian miracles. The ftutltor of these Essays admits, page
d68, that our involuntary belief of the uniformity of causation,
compels us to suppose that "the admirable appearances of design"
exhibited by the material world, have been the production of an

j

'

141

*Untellig^eiit caute;" and that this cause is "wife and beneTolent."
Here, then, he affirms and alleges the presence of a cause suffi-
cient, and strictly proper, for the production of the unusual ef-
fects spoken of by the witnesses. It is, therefore, no longer ne-
cessary either to suppose an interruption of the principle of caus-
ation, or to stand aghast, as he would have us, between two
incompatible proofs; for the witnesses, whose veracity is granted
(p. 262) to be established on the ordinary principles of human
nature, not only affirm the occurrence of the unusual event, but
affirm it in a connection that renders the entire testimony intel-
ligible and rational. They declare that, to authenticate the doc-
trine of a future life, He who is the author of life opened the
eyes of one born blind; and is not this proposition as reasonable,
abstractedly,, as the other proposition, 'Hhat God formed the eye
to see?" On occasion of meeting with such an affirmation, the
only question we have to do with, concerns the credibility of the
witnesses. It is already admitted, that the same wise and be-
nevolent Being who gives sight to the million at birth, may, if he
pleases, aAer wards grant it to the one who received it not then.
''Has he so pleased?" this is the single doubt; and it is to be re-
solved by application of the established rulea of historical evi-
dence.

NoTs L. p. 43. *

To affirm that the doctrine of materialism is innos^ious, or at
least, that it is a matter of indifference to religion, may startle
some readers. The assertion is advanced with a subjoined con-
dition. A philosophical system may have an inherent and insep-
arable, or an accidental a,nd relative mischievous tendency: that
is to say, it may be directly hostile to the gteat principles of
morals and religion, so as to be susceptible of no modification or
accommodation which can render it consistent with those prin-
ciples; or it may produce ill consequences solely by some misin-
terpretation, or unfounded inference; or by clashing with some
e](isting popular prejudice. Thus, for example, the doctrine of
necessity, as advanced by Diderot; and that of causation, as ap-
plied to testimony, by Hume; can, neither of them, be recon-
ciled with the principles of religidn, any more than with other

143

parte of the economy of hnman life. They are intrinsicany in-
imical to man, and might safely be rejected, unexamined, simply
because they stand in contrariety to all the sciences, as well as
to the constitution and universal sentiments of human nature.

But a system, such as the idealism of Berkeley, which leaves
all relations and sentiments, just what it found them, and is in fact
a pure theory ^ without inferenc e, cannot be affirmed to have any
intrinsic quality hostile to the principles of morality or religion.
Nevertheless, it may happen that, among those who must under-
stand whatever they hear in a gross sense, the doctrine that noth-
ing exists, or can exist, but mind, might produce some danger-
ous perplexity. This ill consequence is clearly accidental, and
an equal inconvenience might happen to result from the best
established truths. Or, to take another instance:-— an inference
unfavorable to revealed religion has been hastily derived by its
enemieSf from some facts of geological science; and the ground-
less fears of the friends of religion have entcouraged the ill inten-
tions of infidels. But in these cases all the mischief has arisen
either from a misunderstanding of the facts, or from an unwar-
rantable deduction of consequences.

Now the case is parallel in the instance of the doctrine of ma-
terialism. It may become pernicious by a popular misinterpreta-
tion, or by a malignant and sophistical comment, framed by tlio^e
who are ever ready to take bad advantage of the ignorance of the
multitude. But in its essence, this doctrine, false as it is, stands
precisely on a level with its antagonist, idealism, and leaves all
questions of morality and religion just what and where they
were. The question concerning the materiality or spirituality of
mind, resolves, itself into a futile inquiry concerning the inner
form of substances (J^ovum Organum) which is [always indiffer-
ent, both to theory and to practice. Whether heat be a difilised
substance, or a mode of movement; an emanation or a vibration;
is unimportant both to scienbe and to art.' Such is the question
concerning the occult constitution of thought; — a question never
to be deterniined, but one which might be determined in this man-
ner or in that, without in the remotest degree affecting (except by
vulgar prejudice) the doctrines of the immortality and future
responsibility of man — doctrines which rest on far surer grounds
then that of metaphysical demonstration.

14B

NoTB M. p. 44.

The rapernatnral Teaches ns in the Scriptures not supematur*
«2/y, but precisely in the same way in which all other matteri,
conveyed by document, reach the parties interested. B holds a
reversionary claim to a title and estate by possession of parch-
ments, the authenticity of which he can satisfactorily establish.
C holds an interest in the future life, also by writings, the ya-
lidity of which he can prove. The subject matter of the two deeds
or testaments affects not at all the mode of conveyance; and if
the claims of B and C are severally called in question, both must
defend their pretensions by the same process of argument; or, if
any abstract principle can be adduced which would destroy, a
priori y the heavenly expectations of C, it must at the same time
annihilate the secular hopes of B.

All the difficulty ip the . argument for Christianity proceeds
from the refual of the opponent to abide by the established condi-
tions of documentary proof. This difficulty has been immeasur-
ably enhanced by that fatal alliance between metaphysics and
religion, which theologians have encouraged — ** et zelum reli-
gionis ciecum et immoderatum." — J^ov, Organum,

Note N. p. 46.

The rude and laborious mechanical or chemical processes which
are carried' on among a people destitute of physical science, may
be regarded as standing parallel with those conventional maxims
of morality, and those imperfect social institutions, which exist
among the same nations, if not yet visited by revealed religion.
Now, previously to ' the introduction of physical sbience among
such a rude people, the question might be started by them,
Whether the ' new principles may not be expected to impede,
baffle, and subvert, the existing arts? To this question it might
be replied, That the existing arts are nothing but science in a
broken or unconnected form; that is to say, single inferences
from single fHcts, accidentally discovered; and that, therefore,
when the entire course of nature, of which these facts are insu-
lated parts, is known, the practical inferences must be more in
number, and more consistent one with another. In other words,
that the result of ai| extended knowledge of nature must be ben-
eficial, because even a partial knowledge of it is so*

144

The raplj would be the same to a qaeetioii concemiDf the iitil«
itj of morml, or, we shoald saj, DiTine science. The oninfonBed
sentunents of mankind lead them to establish certain social
usages, which are found to be beneficial, and indeed neceasarj.
It maj therefore be safeljr inferred, that a more extended or more
exact knowledge of the moral nature of man, snch a knowledge
as Christianity imparts, will lead to better institutions, and will
suggest better rules of conduct Now, for the saibe reason that
an uninformed people ought to reject a pretended system of phys-
ical science which, instead of aiding their agriculture or their
manufactures, brought their whole industry to a stand; so might
they properly reject a moral philosophy which, instead of favor-
ing the existing good principles of the people, asserted the ab-
surdity of all moral sentiments, and told the multitude that there
are no actions that merit either praise or blame. Snch a philo-
sophy rests on the principle, that nature and man are at vari-
ance; but physical science proves the contrary; and never makes
a discovery which does not a-new declare that nature is his
friend.

Note O. p. 48.

The author would not. be thought ignorant of the '^Essaj on
the Equity of Divine Government, and the Sovereignty of Divine
Grace," or unwilling to acknowledge the great and perhaps un-
rivalled merit of the late Dr. Edward Williams: he cordially joins
in the praise which a philosophic minority within the religions
world has bestowed upon that able and amiable divine. But
whatever his merits may be, as a profound and calm thinker, it
will hardly be affirmed that he has been much more successful
than.was his predecessor and father, President Edwards, in his
endeavors to destroy the Biblical difference between Calvinisti
and Armihians, by metaphysical distinctions. The Scriptural
system of Dr. Williams may be more consistent than the Scrips
tural system of his opponents: and again, his philosophy is cer-
tainly better than theirs. But has he brought philosophy to bear
upon the Religion of Texts, in any such manner aa, by it*
conspicuous success, to recommend that method of argmnent'
Some, whosjB opinions are entitled to much respect, would reply
in the affirmative; and many would reply in the negative, whosn

J

145

opinions, on matters of abstruse thought, are entitled to yery
little. The reader may gather the writer's opinion, that the at-
tempt to decide matters of Cliristian doctrine by abstract demon-
stration, has not been placed in a decidedly more auspicious light
than before, by the "Essay on Equity and Sovereignty." It may,
nevertheless, be true, that that Essay occupies a very high place
of merit in the circle of modern theological literature.

The author must here beg to be excused from making any
explicit reference to some highly reputed modern writers on the
Arminian side of the controversy, of whom he could not speak
favorably as masters of intellectual science: and it comes not
within his province either to praise or blame them as expounders
of Scripture. *

Note P. p. 48.

The limits of a note would be insufficient properly to expjain
to those who may not hitherto have given attention to the sub-
ject, that remarkable condition of all the Divine operations
which makes them subserve, hy one and the same constitution of
partSf or succession of causes and effects^ two, three, or more, in-
dependent purposes.' No single term has, as yet, been authenti-
cated by the usage of philosophical writers whereby this admi-
rable' complexity and si^mpUclty may be designated. And, in-
deed, the subject altogether has received less attention than it
deserves. Nevertheless every one knows that the material world
abounds with instances of this sort,— :or, to speak more properly,
that the whole system of nature is a comple^ simplicity, — a ma.-
chinery which, with one set of powers and- parts, arid one cotitin-
bous movement, accomplishes a great variety of ends; and yet
in such manner that the entire machinery is specifically proper
to each of those purposes.

The same admirable principle presents itself again to notice in
that highly complicated system 6f which man and his agency is
the subject; and it can be in no other way than by an illustration
of this principle, that the doctrine of Providence can be placed
in the light, or freed from urgent difficulties. The Divine opor-
ations shew always the same character; and the Bible therefore;
because it i^ the work of God> is in this respect also In analogy
with nature and providence.-^'^Id etiam in omni majore opera

13

* 146

ProvidentisB evenire reperitur; at omnia nne itrepita «t sonito
placide labantur; atque res pl&De agatuTy priasqaam homiiie*
earn agi patent aat advertent/' — Bxcojx.

Note Q. p. 49.

It is a matter of some importance to understand that relative
imperfection, and conseqaent uneertaintyy of intellectual philo-
sophy, in all its branches, which results from the vagueness and
rariableness of its signs or terms. The closeness of the con-
nection between theory and practice, science and art, will be
found always to bear propertion, not so much to the comprehen-
siveness or symmetrical perfection of the former, as to iUt precision
and xUt fixedn*as* But precision and fixedness can be secured only
by a rigorously exact system of notation; or, in the experimen-
tal sciences, by an invariable and intelligible nomenclature. This
high advantage is enjoyed in the most absofute degree by the
mathematical sciences: hence it is that the connection or correih-
pondence between the higher mathematics and those arts of life
which are dependent upon them, is liable to no hesitation or
dispute.

But let it he supposed (if indeed such a supposition can be en-
tertained) that mathematical truths were deprived of their means
of definite expression,* and could only be made known in the
mode of a loose and changeable description. In this case the
practical or available value of these truths would be so Aiucfa
lowered, that occasions would often arise wherein the vul<rar
rules — the nostrums of workmanlike skill and artisan experi-
ence, would be safer guides than those high truths; and it would
be better that practical men should grope their way in the clumsy
methods of manual dexterity, than trust themselves to the di-
rection of science. This never actually happens, because math-
ematical science is rigorously exact in its terms, and invariable
in its expressions.

Yet this low relative value, or available significance, of scien-
tific principles, is always the disadvantage of intellectual philo-
sophy; and hence it hardly ever comes forward- to direct or con-
trol the business of life, without bringing with it an equal chance
of deranging, confusing,' or misdirecting the existing course of
practice. Or, to state the same thing in other terms, so as to

147

place it in direct contrast with mathematical science*. — The value
of the principles of intellectual philosophy is so much depreciated
by the vagueness of its signs, that it can barely maintain equality
with (in fact is much inferior to)^the vulgar or popular azioms,
and maxims, and modes of procedure, which have grown out of
the common sense and experience of mankind. In all practical
questions, therefore, it is at least as safe to abide by those com-
mon principle:), as to follow the instructions of science. The
practical man, the statesman, the teacher, and the divine, should
do what the artisan ought to do, if mathematical science had no
precise language, that is — listen much more to experience and
common sense than to philosophy.

It follows from the incurable imperfection of intellectual sci-.
ence, that when a pretended demonstration, derived from it, chal-
lenges a right to disturb or overrule any existing order of thinge,
which rests upon' the basis of experience or known facts, the
good sense of mankind should send it home to the closet of the
^peculatist whence it issued. And now, if it were asked, In what
relation the principles of intellectual philosophy stand to the affir-
mations of. our doeum^tary religion; — we should find an answer
by recurring to the supposition, that the mathematical sciences
possessed no definite or invariable sign^, and could only express
Ihemsetves in the language of vague description) and should
then, moreover, suppose that a super-human intelligence, which
had at command the entire compass of these sciences in a definite
form, were to confer upon the mechanic arts a centenary of pre-
cise, though unconnected rules of practice, drawn from that ab-
solute science. In such a case, it would plainly be the wisdom
of artisans and practical men, rigidly to adhere, on all occasions,
to the hundred rules. Nor could any thing be knore unreasonable
than to stand hesitating between one of these definite ruleSf and
«ome vague dpgma of that unfixed science, which, bavii^g no
•determinate medium of expression, coiild reach no certain con-
clusions, and must always lie open to immense miscalculations.
It is .unnecessary to apply our illustration to the case of the re-
lation between metaphysi(^al science and Christianity. But if the
reader thinks that the disadvantage of the former has here been
too strongly stated, his attention is directed to some confessions on
this sabjeet drawn from unquestionable authorities. — ^''At verba

_iiL.

148

ex capta Tulgi imponantur. Itaque mala et inepta Teibornm
impoBitiOi miris modis intellectam obeidit. Neque definitiones
aat explicationes, quibas homines docti ae munire et vindicare in
nonnnllis consueYeranti rem ullo modo restitnant. Sed verba
plane yim faciant intellectai, et omnia turbant; et homines ad
inanes et innumeras controversias et commenta deducant." —
Again: *^Credunt homines rationem suam verbis imperare; sed
fit etiam nt verba vim saam super intellectum letorquant et
reflectant; quod philosophiam et scientias reddidit sophisticas et
inactivas." — Nov. Organ. Aph. 43 et 59.

Locke has enlarged upon the imperfection of words, with great
force and fulness, in many parts of his Essay on Human Under-
standing: the reader hardly needs to be referred to the particular
passages: he will doubtless call to mind the ninth chapter of the
third book. Leibnitz speaks to the same effect. Reid says: "The
language of philoso|(>hers, with regard to the original faculties of
the mind, is so adapted to the prevailing system, that it cannot
fit any other; like a coat that fits the man for whom it was made,
and shews him to advantage, which yet will sit very awkwardly
upon one of a different make, altbough perhaps as handsome, a,nd
lis well proportioned. It is hardly possible to make any inhova-
tion in our philosophy concerning the mind and its operations,
without using new words and phrases, or giving a different mean-
ing to thosd thfit are received."^— /fi^'Miry, chap. i. sect. 2.

Dugald Stewart professes, more than once, his indistinct hope,
that the project of a philosophical language might be realised,. in
, order to obviate the inconveniences that arise from the use of an
instrument of thought which was constructed by the vulgar, and
with no view to the purpose^ of science. See Elements, chap,
iv. sect. 4. See also chap. vii. sect. 2. p. .495. 3d edition.

"And here I cannot help pausing a little,'* says the same ele-
gant writer, "to remark ^how much more impeffect language is than
is €(ymmordy supposed, as an organ of menial ijUeroour'se." — Phi-
losophical t^ssays, p. 207, 3d edition.

But, perhaps, this great and incurable disadvantage has never
been more forcibly represented than by a distinguished living
writer, who ko strongly states the difficulty with which the intel-
lectual and moral philosopher has to contend, that the reader
would be almost justified in at onee withdrawing his attention

149

from a science which, by the confession of io competent a mas-
ter, can never heeome scieTUi/ic. See the Introduction to the
Dissertation on the Progress of Ethical Philosophy, by Sir James
Mackintosh, prefixed to the 7th ed. of the Encyc. Brit.

Note R. p. 54.

That want of a precise and invariable notation, adverted to in
the last note, which has hitherto, and which must, perhaps,
always rest as a capital disadvantage upon metaphysical science,
and deprive it of almost all direct utility^ need not impede the
progress .of the physiology of the human mind; if this latter
science' were entirely severed from the former. For a knowledge
of nature, in any department, may be conveyed in a descriptive
form^ to which an absoljiite precision of terms is not essential. .

A science may properly be said to have passed its period of
infancy, or to have reached a degree of maturity, when the ex-
istence of sects and oppositions ^within its precincts is no longer
possiblej^or when its first principles^ or its more important de-
ductions, are no longer liable to be called in question by well-
informed men. Thus, it may safely be said, that though mathe-
matical, astronomical, mechanical, and physical science, may
hereafter receive important additions, they ' have attained their
maturity, and will not again be utterly subverted. Chemistry is
reaching', or has reached, this maturity. Quite so much mufit
not be affirmed of Geology. Political Economy stands perhaps
on the same stage of hopeful growth. Far below it rests that
system of quackery (founded, nevertheless, on real and important
facts) to which the improper term phrenology has been assigned.
If the phase infancy is thought to be unseemingly applied to a
science so ancient as metaphysics, the author can think of none
other that would be appropriate, unless the. analagous word
^to^e were admitted in lieu of it.

Note S. p. 58.

If the author were called upon to justify his assertion, that the
modern philosophy of the human mind is, for the most part^ a
mere system of abstractions, he would think it enough to appeal

*13

150

to that anxious trimming of pliimws, vUck efametofiMo aO tho
more sobatantial portions of Brown's Lfeetvrea, and wUdi Mongs
not lass to tlie argument of later writers who haTo dispoted hi*
positions. The assertion is eonfidentlj adTsneed, that no branch
of physics, whatoYer be its subject, demands this soUcitons
nicetj, or will be promoted bj the use of it.

• Nora T. p. 61.

The reader need not be reminded, that the application of the
word instinct eomprebensiTelj, and without distinction, to all
the actions of the brate orders, is a popular impropriety. One
might as well call all the actions of man rational, as all those of
the inferior tribes instinctive. When an animal acts in a manner
which differs in no essential circumstance from a corresponding
action in man, a delusion must be engendered bj applying to the
two actions different terms, j? and B are transacting business
together, and behave yerj much in the same manner. But ^
has far more intelligence, and more learning, and more virtue,
than B. Shall we therefore say Chat Jl acts and speaks rationally,
and B instinctively P This were to introduce a distinctrou which
belongs not to the real points of difference. We should confine
the word instinct to those instances in w)iich a course rational,
as to its end, is pursued by a voluntary agent, under circum-
stances which forbid the supposition that it springs from a per-
ception or calculation of the connection of means and end. The
instance usually adduced, that of the construction of the honey-
. comb, is one of the most proper that can be named, especially
because it involves some of. the highest and most abstruse prin-
ciples of geometry.

Though man also has his instincts, as they are not of the sort
which supply the want of reason (which he possesses), they
afford him little aid in interpreting those operations by which, in
animals, reason is anticipated or supplanted. Philosophical wri-
ters must be understood to use the words reason and instinct in
a popular sense, when attributing the one to man as his preroga-
tive, and the other to the brute as its blind faculty. The terms
reason i^nd instinct thus vaguely used, mean — more reason, and
leas reason. "Bruto, quamvis ratiane et libertate destituto" saya

f

151

Leibnitz, "pcenas infligimas, cam id ad correctionem ejas quid
conf49re posse jadieamus; sic canes et equi mulctantur, idque
felici cum successa." But if the brute were altogether destitute
of reason and liberty , in the same stnse in which the bee is desti-
tute of both in building her cells, rewards and punishments
could have no operation or efficiency.

Note U. p. 65.

The precise term employed to designate the incessant activity
of mind, or the constant succession of thoughts, is of very little
or no importance to physiology. Those phrases which have been
the subject of so much debate among modern writers, take their
sense and propriety, from the particular doctrine that is enter-
tained relative to the law or laws that regulate. the succession of
mental states. The term that is phosen must depend upon the
answer given to the question — What is the connecting principle
that makes one thought or emotion^ rather than another, succeed
to the one which last oc(5Upied the mi>nd?' The fact of an inces-
sant succession of thoughts, is independent of such inquiries;
and no one who attentively obsei'ves the manners of any active
animal, can, doubt that this constant movement belongs as well
to the brute as to tlie human mind.

Note W. p. 67.

It has been related, that a horse, pinched in, shoeing, and
turned out to field, has n^ade his way, by leaping several fences,
to the farrier's shop, and there presented the uneasy foot to the
careless artist, who had so negligently exercised his craft. This,
if true, is something more than association of ideas; for that
pfihciple Would have led the nag any where rather than to the
shop where he had recently been so ill treated. Ponies that
have been long upon the same farm, not unfrequen,tly acquire so
high a degree of dexterity (if the word may be applied to the use
of teeth and lips), in opening the fastenings of gates, that it
becomes a very difficult matter to confine theip to a particular
pasture; and the contrivances resorted to for baffling their inge-
nuity suppose more or less of a corresponding faculty of inven-

152

lion. A horte #bat up loose in a small stabloi will with his 2iO0«
break any glass within his reach; as it seems, for the purpose of
admitting fresh air: this, too, implies a process of inference.
The horse of the Bedouin, who is a member of his family, a
guest at his table, and a party in every occurrence, acquires a
degree of intelligence, as well as of docility, which very far
surpasses any thing seen elsewhere. But even in England,
where the horse is a slave and a captive, and is required to per-
form a quantity of labor which breaks the spirit; some few indi-
viduals display a sagacity that must appear incredible to those
who see this noble animal only when performing his task upon
the road. A personal knowledge of the sensibilities and mental
qualities of the horse would tend to abate the cruel demands
made oflen upon his bodily powers by business or pleasure. The
pleasure-loving and the busy should remember, that if a horse is
a machine^ he is a conscious machine.

Note X. p. 68.

Offence ought not to be taken at the. employment of these
terms, in speaking of the more intelligent species of animals.
The distance which divides man from the brute is indeed great;
and that must be a most erroneous philosophy which would re-
duce it to a mere difference of degree, or shade of superiority.
And while w« distinctly apprehend the nature of that distinction,
and keep in mind the elements which constitute the moral and
intellectual dignity of man, no danger can arise from allowing to
the inferior orders all the excellence they may fairly challenge-
On the contrary, (as the author thinks) those attempts,: which
have so often been made to degrade human nature to the leVel 6f
the brute^ are best met by a strictly conducted comparison, which,
after exhibiting with truth and advantage' the powers and capa-
bilities of the inferior families of the sentient system, holdi^ forth
distinctly the new and higher elements of the human constitution.
Thus is human nature seen to raise itself to the summit of a lofty
scale) and to take its rank far above the highest of the subordinate
species. Shall we say that in this method the paramount dignity
of man is enhanced by the display of its relative nobility!

"lUud pro certo asseri possit," says Bacon, {de Augmentis, Hb.
ii. e. 2.) /'grandia ezempla hand <>ptiman aut tutissimam afferre

k^

163

informationem. Id quod ezprimitur non insolse in pervulgaU,
ilia fabula de philoaopho, qui, cum stellas, sublatis oculis, intuer-
etur, incidit in aqnam: nam si ocalos demississit, stellaa illico in
aqua videre potuisset; verum suspiciens in ccelum, aquam in
stellis videre non potuit. Eodem modo saspe accidit, ut res
minute et humilies plus conferunt ad notitiam grandium, qu&m
grandes ad notitiam minutarum." Good text for a new Essay on
the Human Understanding!

Note Y. p. 69.

If the phTnae functional equality needs explanation, it may thus
be given. — When the stomach and mouth of the lion or tiger are
examined, there is seen an apparatus fitted for the trituration
and decomposition of large masses of animal substance — muscle,
ligament, and bone: we find accordingly, in the mechanical
structure of the mighty eater, the highest degree of muscular
power and agility, such as are requisite for the pursuit and con^
quest' of the largest prey. Here is the first set of correspon-
dences. But these organs and instruments would be useless,
unless the mental constitution of the animal were in harmony
with its bodily mechanism. Fierceness, courage, promptitude,
wariness, patience, are the qualities that are the proper concom-
itants of such a stomach, and of such gastric agents. The ani-
mal exhibits a perfect equipoise' of organs, functiontf, and pro-
pensities. What w^re the ohylopoetic viscera of the tiger, con-
joined with the temper and mental faculty of the. ox?

On a like principle, th« high dignity and noble destiny of man
might, with the strictest reason, be argued in detail from the
parts and correspondences of his physical conformation.

Note Z. p. 75.

When the composition* of forces in circular movements, or the
path of projectiles, or the acceleration of falling bodies, or when
the diminution of the intensity of heat, according to the distance
of its emanation, or when the velocity of sound, and a hundred
other laws of the material world, are at once ascertained by
experiment, and demonstrated abstractedly by mathematical

154

leiance; and wben it !■ foand that the thtoratie or hjpothetleal
ttuoBing is boroa out by azperiment; not only ia the certainty
of the two methoda of inyeitigration eatabliahed by their exact
agreement; but we are famiehed with a atrikingr proof of the
absolute harmony which reigni thronj^h the nniyerse; at least in
every instance in which we hare the opportunity of bringing in-
dependent principles into comparison. Let it be remembered, that
no possible constitution of the material world could have made
mathematical truths other than they are. Whatever might have
been the mechanical principles of the universe; whatever the
composition or powers of its elements; certain curves could hare
had no other properties than those they actually possess; and the
relation between the square and the cube in numbers must have
remained unalterable. ' Now, when it is found that the material
•ystem actually and precisely conforms- itself to these unchanged
able (shall we say eternal?) principles,, we may either suppose
that the agreement is the product of the wisdom of the Creator,
who has so adjusted the machinery of the universe to those unal-
tbrable truths; or we may affirm that it is the result of a necessary
relationship;' that is to say, that the mechanical or chemical law
could be no other than an expression of mathematical pTinciplea.
The inference would be nearly the same in either case. If what
may seem the more religious ' supposition be adopted, then we
may confidently assume that He who hae followed the rule of a
perfect harmony in one parjt of his ^vork, has done so also in other
parts. Or if we take the latter supposition, that the correspond
dence between mathematical, mechanical, and chemical principles
ia nothing more than a necessary retatuntj then "we may, with a
like «<>n.fidence, aaeume that the law of relation runs through the
universe; and if, in turning from mathematical and mechanical
to metaphysical science, we find an* exact correspondence be-
tween all truths and facts on the one side, while on the other,
nothing presents itself but an inexplicable — an astounding con-
trariety, nothing but "whimsical inconseqttences,'Vtfae presump-
tion against the latter will fall little short of a demonstration of
its falseness.

There ought to be ihe same sort of concord between the physi-
ology of man and abstract or metaphysical truth, which we find

155

to exist between mathematici, and mechanicei and optica, and
aeoaetica, and cheroiitrj. But now, let it be sappoeed for a mo-
ment, that a diicordancj between tbeieeciencei were discovered;
what course should then be taken, or how should we decide be-
tween abstraction and experiment? We reply, that the abstract
science, having the advantage of a perfect system of notationf
must be allowed to stand its ground in opposition to experiment;
for this reason, — that in the investigation of nature by the method
of experiment, there must be assumed, in almost every case, a
possibility of error, arising either from the faultness of our method^
or its incompleteness; for it may happen that some hidden cause
has escaped our observation.

The case i% just reversed in the instance of an apparent con-
trariety between metaphysical science, and the knowledge of hu-
man nature as acquired by common observation. For the for-
mer, possessing only a vague, variaUe, and fallacious system of
notation, is destitute of demonstrative force; and its conclusions
can scarcely ever rise to the level of indisputable truth. On the
contrary, the common knowledge of human nature has an advan-
tage even over physical experiment, inasmuch as in its great
principles, it rests not on the observations of a few philosophers,
but is attested by the consciousness and conduct of all mankind.
In a word, mathematical and experimental philosophy stand
related to each other, in respect of their certainty, nearly as
equations; the diffei^ence being against the latter by the amount
of a very small deduction for possible eiror. But no absolute
estimate can be formed of the relation between metaphysical
science and the experimental knowledge of human nature, be-
cause no positive or definite expression can be given of the pbi-
losophical value of the former. Ip any pa];ticular instance it is
as if, in .looking to the data of a.problem in arithmetic, the. figures
expressing one of the quantities were blurred, or partly oblitera-
ted, so that it was impossible to decide whether it should be read
901.or 001.

NoTX A A. p. 77.

The limits and intention of this Essay forbid that any exempli-
fication should be attempted of that method of combined obser-

156

TStioii and analysis, of which the developement of the faculties
daring the season of infancy might be the subject. The speci-
mens of this kind that are afforded by Brown (aa in Lecture
zxiii. vol. i. p. 514), have in them far too much that is metaphy-
sical, and far too little that is physiological. We should suppose
that the lecturer constr acted his illustrations in his study, rather
than drew them from the nursery.

Note B B. p. 79.

The transfer or attachment of the irascible feeling to its
object takes place much later than its developement as a vague
emption. The infant is petulant and irascible, long, before it
conceives anger against the supposed author of an injury. But
the periods of the rise of these and other emotions vary by the
difference of many months; and the variation indicates the char-
acter., and might sometimes suggest the specific method of
education.

NoTE.C C. p. 80.

Nearly all the descriptions which President Edwards gives of
the process of volition (for example, in the^rst and second part
of his Inquiry), are true only of certain complex instances of
determination, wherein antagonist desires are present to the
mind. It seemed to him necessary to his argument, to display
the mental operation at largCj in order to exhibit the influence of
the predominant desire, and by that means to prove that, the
volition is ruled by motive, and is not contingent. But volition
is not contingeTUy that is to say, is not uncaiised, «ven though
there be (as oflen) no predominant desire; or when, aflLer a
longer or shorter conflict, the mind decides, not by what seemed
the strongest desire, but by 'a new and unimportant suggestion,
springing up at the moment when the bodily powers are standing
(if we might so speak) waiting for command.

Note D D. p. 81.

Brown, in the Lecture just above referred to, and in other
places, talks of the reasoning process as belonging to the very

167

^ first exertion of the muscular powers. Does he not in these in-
stances suppose far more than is contained in the phenomena?
We should imagine any thing as soon as a reasoning from the
past to the future in the mind of a babe. The lecturer's hypoth-
esis on the subject of cause and efiect, leads him naturally to
impute a mental process where none makes itself evident.

Note £ £. p. 82..

It is very much the aim of education to cultivate the faculty
of continued, or, as it is called, cloee attention. And there can be
no doubt that this power is of high importance, and much needed
in all the occasions of life. But the power of attending to more
objects than one at the same time, and of suddenly directing the
whole force of the mind from one object to another, is not less
important, though far lees cultivated or thought of. It may be
added, that the power of complex attention recommends itself by
its connection with the moral faculties. The habit of thinking
comprehensively may be called — a means of virtue.

Note F F. p. 86.

In modern times, the business of government in relation to the
people is almost confined to the prevention and punishment of
crimes. But this was only a branch of the care of the legislator
in ancient Greece, in Persia, and in Rome. To protect, and
cherish, and reward the virtue of the people (that is to Say, the
specific national virtue), was the first and principal object of
every institution; the punishment of crime was but an incidental
affair. A proposition to revive in its completeness this ancient
idea of government, would seem in the highest degree romantic
or puerile. Yet it is by no means certain that something of the
kind might not be attempted. But it is a paternal or patrician
work so to educate the people^ and one that implies a restoration
of the long-lost relative sentiments which should connect the
higher with the lower classes. High principles and vivid senti-
ments of public virtue^ must, to -some extent, prevail among the
aristocracy of a country, if the lower orders are to be thought of
otherwise than as a hostile, power, that must be held at bay by

14

«^£-

158

force and skill. Sad derangement of social order, when the noble
and the rich stand related to the people rather as protected pro-
prietors of the national wealth, than as conserrators of the com-
mon prosperity! It must not be affirmed that England has reached
this stage of political dissolntion. On the contrary, it may be
hopf d that a restorative process has, within the last few years,
been going on; and that the idea of a true patriotism has been
brought out to yiew, ,and has received some practical homage
among public men.

<

NoTi G G. p. 87.

While viewing human nature and the history of man as an
object of'physiology, it would be quite improper to entertain the-'
ological distinctions, or to inquire into the cause of those higher
* and more intimate reformations — reformations of the spirit, which
Christianity challenges as its triumphs, and teaches us to asctibe
tojan emanation of Divine influence. These restorations of the
true -and original beauty of 'the human soul, whatever may be
their cause, take place in accordance with the constitution of the
human mind, not in subversion of its principles of movement,
and are at once truly divine and truly natural. But putting these *
emphatic instances out of the question, it is a common thing for '
emendations of character, within certain limits, to take place
(even after the plastic season of youth is gone by^, in consequence
of cogitation, and of persevering effort, directed or guided by
an abstract idea of excellence.

Note H H. p. 88.

The operations of invention and absfl'?ction, and, for the same
reason, the moral operation of selfadvajroement, are open probably
to a complete analysis. To analyse them falls not within the in-
tention of this Essay. But the. author requests the reader to bear
in mind, that no practical inference depends upon such an analy-
sis, so long as the*fact that these operations are within the power
of human nature, remains unquestionable. It might, to take an
illustration, have been said to the author of ''Sir Charles Grandi-
tOH," ''Conoeive the idea of finished virtue and honor, and em-

* ..

.r^ '♦

159
/

body that idea in a fictitious narrative." The imposition of such
a task would not have seemed preposterous, — it would have been
only to call into exercise an existing faculty. But instead of
imposing this literary task, let it have been said to the same per-
son, ^^Conceive the idea of virtue passing unhurt through scenes
of temptation and trial, and embody the idea in your onm conduct
and temper. If motive be wanting, think of the present and the
future rewards of goodness." It may be said, that this latter task
is one of far greater difficulty than the first. True: but the second,
not less than the first, is a reasonable requirement, founded upon
the existence of certain faculties in the person to whom the pro-
position is made. And, moreover, if the second task be more
difficult than the first, it stands related to a motive incomparably
more powerful: all that is needed for overcoming the greater
difficulty, is^to bring the infinite motives home upon the mind.
Now, as it is not necessary first to analyse the process of inven-
tion before we can reasonably demand from a writer a work of
fiction, having a given object; so neither is it necessary to effect
a corresponding analysis before men can reasonably be required
to cultivate virtue. Nor could any result of such an analysis
nullifiy the reasonableness of the demand. If the metaphysician
says, I have resolved what you term the process of self-education
into a series of physical causes; no sense can be assigned to such
an affirmation, which would discharge from the natural history of
man, the fact, that reformation is a- frequent event, or, which
would impugn the inference, that it may reasonably be looked
for and demanded from mankind. He may as well deny to man
the power of locomotion, who denies him the natural faculties of
virtue.

Note 1 I. p, 89.

The author would not omit the opportunity of recommending to
th^ reader <'An Essay on Moral Freedom," by the Rev. Thomas
Tully Crybbace, A. M. The fourth and fifth sections of that
essay bear upon the subject of the damage or injury of the moral
nature of man, for which the Gospel provides a remedy. The
work throughout will well repay an attentive perusal. — The same,
notwithstanding some imperfectionB, may be said of a volume

160

recently published, ''On the Work of the Holj Spirit in
Conreriion/' by the Rer. J. Howard Hinton. In this, and
some similar works of the day, a hopefiil effort is evidently mak-
ing to throw off the comxptions of that putrid Christianity, which
has too long poisoned all the atmosphere in some quarters of the
religious world. It is a circumstance of much signiBcance, that
the cleansing energy has sprung up in the nearest vicinity of the
evil.

Note K K. p. 97.

The correspondences between the astronomical position of the
earth, and the structure and physiology of plants, are many and
admirable. That quick alternation of temperature which is
occasioned by its diurnal rotation, is essential to the mechanical
contrivance by which the ascent of sap is effected. Then, again
tliis alternate heat and cold, by the chemical change it produces
on the atmosphere, and within the plant, is necessary to the
respiratory fanctions of the vegetable system. Again, the alter-
nation of the seasons, resulting from the inclination of the earth's
axis to the plane of its orbit, is the very basis of vegetable life.
The one system of contrivances supposes the existence of the
other, and the wellbeing of the one depends upon its relation to
the other. Animal life, in like manner, is one complex mass of
relations to the mechanical and chemical laws of the world; and
if the human mind were exempt from such relationship, it would
not only be an amazing anomaly in the universe, but could hold
no intercourse or sociality whatever with the external world.

Note L L. p. 111.

t

'^Non tamen inter hiec existimandum, libertatem nostram in
indeterjiiinatione, aut indifibrentia quadam SBquilibrii sitam esse;
qu^sioequaliter in utramque partem, et adfirmativam,et negativam^
ac in plures partes diversas propendere oporteret, cum plura nobitf
eligenda proponuntur. Hoc lequilibrium usquequaque impossi'*
bile eat; nam si equaliter propenderemus in tria eligibilia, A, B»
et C, non possemus sequaliter propendere in A et non A.

^'*

161

''Hoc ffiquilibri&m etiam prorsus adversatur experientis et ubl
nostra intus scrutabimur adtentius, semper aliquam causam, sive
rationem, adfuisse deprehendemas qute nos in eam, quam amplezi
sumus, partem inclinavit, quamvis frequenter id, quod nos moyet,
.noh percipiamus; plane sicut vix percipimns, quare, porta aliqaa
egredientes, pedem dextrum sinistroi vel sinistrum dextro, prs-
posuerimus." — Tbbodic. pars i. § 35.

Leibnitz does not here deny the possible equality of eligibles,
but the absolute indifference of the mind towards them. The
demonstration contained in the first paragraph is, like many such
demonstrations, very convincing in formj but totally inapplicable
to the subject, and therefore of no value. The appeal to conscious-
ness in the second paragraph is pertinent, and it supposes^ though
it does-not assert, that mode of determination by the suggestion
of the moment, which is referred to in the Essay.

The course of human life is replete with occasions, in which,, by
the choice of one path 'where two or more of equal promise present
themselyes (a choice not determinable by moral considerations),
the entire fortune of afler-life is made other than it might have
been. It is not easy to shew why such occasions should not
belong to a future and a more perfect state, as well as to this. In
fact, \o deny their Occurrence demands the supposition of either a
state of absolute inertness, or ah immediate control of the agency
of intelligent beings by the Divine power, or the abstract impossi-
bility of both real and apparent equivalents. So few elements of
cogitation relating to the future life are afforded to us in the Scrip-
tures (our only guides), and these elements are so exclusively of
a moral order, that we almost unavoidably take up a very restricted
conception of that future condition of human' nature, which is to
give a full expansion to its original powers. The great difficulty
of conjoining an enlarged conception of the future life, with the
idea of freedom from all that is evil, leads the devout mind (and
perhaps properly) to confine itself to the elementary and para-
mount sentiment which is gathered from devotional exercises.

Note M M. p. 114.

There is, perhaps, nothing more inconceivaUe (we do not say
that it is incredible) than the doctrine that the production of or-

c

162

gtiiise4 bodies, Tegetabie ind animal, is a deTelopement of the
parts and properties of the mieroseopic seminal element. Rather
, than beliere this, the mind gladly acquiesces in the belief of an
immediate exertion of creative power in each instance. But yeg*
etable and animal /kncftoiif are easily attributed to mechanical and
vchemica] powers in operation upon the organs of life. Yet, per-
haps, it is more philosophical to believe that th* idea of difficulty
or of facility, in the one case or the other, springs altogether from
the influence of an tdolum tribus, ''estque intellectns humanus
instar speculi inequalis," &c.

The construction of a plant or animal, being assumed as the im-
mediate effect of creative power and intelligence, and the laws of
the material world, the properties or powers of heat, and the chem-
ical properties of air, water, earth, &c. being supposed, then the
changes that take place in the history of the organised body are
all resolvable into so many relations of proportion, or equilibrium,
or equivalence, precisely in the same way that the movements of
a machine are so resolvable.

Note N K. p. 115.

Brown usually misunderstands and misrepresents (not wilfully,
but by force of his own conceptions) the sense of his predecessors.
A glaring instance occurs in his attempt (Lecture VI.) to convict
Locke of a sophism. Nothing can be more superficial than his
own sophism on the subject of physical antecedents and conse-
quents. But it is one which runs through his philosophy, and to
be effectively exposed must be followed from beginning to end of
his four volumes. In illustration of the principle, that a real
relation of fitness or equality is the actual connexion between
physical events, the reader is referred to the passage in the ^'Essay
on Human Understanding," upon which Brown makes his com-
ment. — Book iv. chap. iii. sect. 25, and this compared with "Novum
Organum," lib, ii. aph. vi. vii. &c.

Without adopting either the mechanical theories once so much
in vogue, and now so much contemned; or the chemical hypothe-
sis, to which more respect is paid in our times; it may be assumed,
as not altogether improbable, that some such advances will be
made in physical science as may confirm the conjectures of Locke,

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and, in part, realise the glowing anticipations of Bacon; and, at
the same time, expose to greater and greater contempt the modem
metaphysical doctrine of causation. It is consolatory to perceiye
that, while certain modern dialecticians announce confidently,
that science must stop short at a point which they have indicated-—
the professors of natural science adhere to a philosophical modesty
—41 modesty which is nurse of hope, and mother of invention, and
allovir it to be possible that our successors may know incomparably
more t^an ourselves. <<This may, however, be a rash inference
(that because the hidden powers of nature have not hitherto been
discovered, they never will); Bacon, afler all, maybe in the right,
and we may be judging under the influence of the vulgar preju-
dice, which has convinced men in every age that they had reached
the farthest verge of human knowledge. This must be left to
the decision of posterity; and we should rejoice to think that
judgment will hereafter be given against the opinion, which at
this moment appears most probable." — Third Dissertation^ by
Professor Playfair, Eney. Brit. 7th ed, p. 474. '

A noble confession, and worthy of a philosopher! How unlike
the cold dogmatism that reigns in the modern science of mind!
But the spirit of philosophy is to be looked for only among those
whose minds have been trained under the influence of real and
substantial sciences.

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